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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554350">Erôs</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescroller/pseuds/thescroller'>thescroller</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Professors, F/M, Fluff, Professor!Dean, Smut, maybe some angst if you squint hard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:49:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,976</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554350</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescroller/pseuds/thescroller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>--- An accidental text to your Professor got you into this mess. Now you just had to decide if you wanted to stick along for the ride or go on pretending like it never happened. But why does he have to look at you like that?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/You, Professor Dean/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>170</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Chapter One. </strong>
  </span>
</p><p>“Babe, can we please go out with the guys tonight?” Josh groaned, his grip around your waist tightening to the point you couldn’t breathe. “It’s been ages since we’ve done anything other than sitting around watching <em>Friends</em> re-runs.” </p><p>Wiggling a bit to the right, you sucked in some air as you turned from the dining room table to look at your boyfriend. “I”m really sorry,” you pouted, hoping to win little extra bonus points with him. “I really need to catch up on work.” </p><p>He huffed, arms crossing as his gaze cast over to the couch where you had already set up your laptop, some wine, and a freshly popped bag of popcorn. Clearly, there was no changing your mind on this Saturday night. “I swear since you picked up that teacher assistant job with Professor Winchester, I never see you anymore.” </p><p>You knew he had a point. You had been working overtime between catching up on Grad School assignments and helping to grade some of the heavier papers weighing down Mr. Winchester’s desk, but you couldn’t help the fact that with every semester, the man got more and more students. </p><p>“Why don’t you tell half the female population on campus to ease up on taking his classes?” You mused, pushing up on your toes and planting a kiss on his turned cheek. “Half of them just daydream about the man anyway.” </p><p>Josh chuckled, his dark eyes turning back towards you now. “The man is like the Indiana Jones of that school.” </p><p>“Exactly.” </p><p>Grabbing your stack of papers, you held them close as you made your way over towards the couch, settling in with the soothing sounds of Chandler’s inappropriate jokes. Your boyfriend didn’t move from where he had been idly standing, looking a little overshadowing in the cramped corner of your apartment. “I don’t think I’m going to stay tonight.”</p><p>You had been skimming the intro paragraph on the first paper you had picked up when you looked up at him, eyebrows rising in interest. “Oh?’ </p><p>“I kind of promised the guys I would go out with them tonight,” he shifted on his heels now while gazing at the front door like it was his only escape. “I told them I’d see if you could come, but since you can’t…” </p><p>“If you want to go, you can.” </p><p>His face lit up as that large smile graced it. You’d never see him this excited in the six years or so that the two of you had been dating, but the chuckle was one that you were sure your mother gave you when asking for permission to do something you were sure she’d shoot down. </p><p>“You’re amazing,” he praised, running over and giving you a messy peck on the lips before scrambling to the door and slipping on his shoes as he was pulling it open. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m home.” </p><p>You nodded. “Just make sure you tell Adam I say hi and give my love to everyone else.” </p><p>There was no reply, just the quiet slam of the door, leaving you to the white noise of your favorite television show and what seemed like a never-ending amount of paperwork. You remembered when Mr. Winchester assigned the six-page paper last week, groaning inwardly knowing that it was going to be more time consuming for you, more than it would be for the students. </p><p>Oh, how you longed for the days where writing papers was the only thing you had to worry about. </p><p>It was sometime after one in the morning when you finally decided to give your eyes a break from several of the run-on sentences that were littering the papers now tossed along the coffee table. Half a bottle of wine was missing from the once full bottle and you were a little concerned that you hadn’t heard a peep from Josh since he vanished out the front door almost five hours ago. </p><p>Pulling out your phone, you settled into the couch, letting the boozy juice do it’s thing while you scrolled through your Facebook. From the looks of it, your best friend Karlee was also out with the guys tonight which gave you peace of mind that your boyfriend had at least made it to his destination in one piece. </p><p>Suddenly there was a vibration in your palm as the little text window lit up. <br/>
<em>Professor Winchester is here. </em></p><p>It was a text from the devil, you swore it was like she knew when you were just thinking her name some days. A chuckle echoed in the soft quiet of the room as you shook your head. Karlee was one of the few who was also head over heels in love with the very man you had to spend four out of the five days of the week with. </p><p>
  <em>Maybe he’s got a hot date, you typed out. Lord knows he needs to get laid. </em>
</p><p>You hit send and then remembered that one in the morning was not the usual time that one was supposed to be meeting a date. The idea that the Professor was out with the simple hope of getting some was a whole different rabbit hole you weren’t sure you wanted to fall down tonight. </p><p>Sure, Dean Winchester was attractive as hell. It was hard not to notice that about the man. He practically demanded that kind of attention when he strutted into the lecture hall, that smolder of his causing every single woman to fan themselves in their seats. You’d be lying to yourself if that first day sitting in with him didn’t have all kinds of thoughts running through your head. </p><p>But, he was a Professor - a great one at that. While his looks raked in the students, his teaching style and attitude were what kept everyone going. He held his students to a high standard, expecting the best out of their work and going above and beyond to make sure everyone fully understood what he was teaching. He was the kind of professor that had no problem staying late to accommodate someone who really needed it, as long as they asked and really showed that they were serious about putting in the work. </p><p>That didn’t mean that the man didn’t have a pole up his ass for his teaching assistant. </p><p>Another vibration had you looking back down at your phone. A grainy picture appeared which looked very much to be the man that you had been spending more time with than your boyfriend appreciated, sitting on a bar stool with a glass in hand while looking down at what appeared to be his phone. </p><p><em>He’s just sitting there</em>, the message underneath read, <em>Think I should shoot my shot?</em></p><p>You didn’t even bother with a proper reply as you rolled your eyes, before deciding that it was time to crawl into bed unless you wanted to fall asleep on the couch and wake up with a crick in your neck. You had hoped that you would have heard from Josh, but you were considering asking your friend if he was still there but decided you didn’t want to appear like the overbearing type. </p><p>After all, you were the one that told him you couldn’t go out, and yet, even the man you were helping was out having a drink. </p><p>When did you become your mother? </p><p>Sighing, you stood up, stretching yourself upwards before deciding the mess on the table could wait until the morning to be handled. With your phone in hand and a click of the remote, you made your way through the dark hall towards your bedroom when you caught sight of a little something hanging in your closet. </p><p>It was a little red number, with lace cut-outs in all the right places and a matching pair of thigh highs. You had gotten it on a whim, deciding that one of these days when you had more than an hour to spend getting yourself together, you’d surprise Josh with it. It was not the kind of thing he expected you to even own, seeing as most of your wardrobe was black or any other sort of muted, professional-looking colors and lengths. </p><p>An idea hit you then as you nearly ripped the thing off the hanger and made your way into the bathroom. Slapping on a quick coat of red lipstick and some mascara, you undid your messy bun allowing your hair to come tumbling down in a mess of waves to your shoulder before struggling with getting the garment in just the right places. </p><p>Finally pleased with what you saw staring back at you in the mirror, you pulled out your phone, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You posed yourself in a more suggestive manner before snapping a few pictures. Flicking through the handful you had, you found one that could get the point across, pulling up the most recent outgoing text message you shared the photo with an even more suggestive caption of just what you wanted to be done to you the next time the two of you were together. </p><p>“That’ll get him back here soon,” you mused to yourself with a grin, shimmying out of the silky piece and stepping back into your tank top and shorts from earlier and heading back towards where your bed was calling your name.</p><p>An hour of staring at the ceiling and getting anxious for some sort of validation from your boyfriend, you pulled up your messages thinking maybe there had been a reply and you had just simply missed it. Staring at the picture for a moment, you were disappointed to see no reply, but as you glanced up at the messages above what you had sent, you realized something dangerous. </p><p>Sitting up straight, you felt your heart racing like you had just drunk a gallon of espresso. “Holy shitting fuck.” </p><p>
  <em>Delivered 1:15am </em>
</p><p><em>Dean Winchester.</em> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Chapter Two </strong>
  </span>
</p><p>The doors before you were mocking you, reminding you of your weekend mistake and the uncertainty of what waited on the other side of them. </p><p>You had spent most of Sunday trying to determine what you needed to do to rectify your mess without flat out asking the man if he had received a text from you at one in the morning. While you knew that it had been delivered by the timestamp on the text, you had been praying to the phone Gods that maybe there had been some sort of glitch that ate the text up. Like a dropped call, but for sexy pictures going out to the wrong recipient. </p><p>“Morning Y/N,” a throaty voice came behind you causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. Professor Winchester came into view as he sidestepped where you were still collecting your thoughts, the keys to the lecture hall in hand. “You’re here awfully early.” </p><p>“Oh, yeah,” you muttered, eyes focusing on the way his hands were gripping the keys. “I didn’t have anything else to do earlier and I didn’t want to risk getting stuck in traffic on the way over.” </p><p>A noise of approval came out of the large man across from you as he struggled to twist the key into place. The funny thing about old universities, things starting to stop working how they were supposed to well before they could qualify for a replacement. </p><p>“This damn key,” he whispered, aggressively twisting it to the point you were almost positive it was going to snap. </p><p>Stepping up, you twisted your bag so that it sat on the opposite side of where he was standing. “Let me try,” you suggested, waiting until he stepped away from the door, arm skimming yours as you wedged yourself between him and the door. </p><p>All it took was two clicks to the right, one to the left and a slight jiggle of your wrist and the satisfying clack of the lock coming undone was heard. “There you go.” </p><p>The man stayed silent from behind you, but you felt his eyes on you as you twisted the knob and pushed into the lecture hall, the coolness from the shadowed room blowing back at you as you turned towards the Professor. </p><p>He was wearing a smug sort of smirk on his lips as he looked down at you, a look you had never seen him wear before-or if you had it wasn’t the kind that he directed to you. “I don’t know what I ever did before you,” he admitted, shaking his head and stepping into the room with you. </p><p>Flicking on the lights, you shrugged and made your way down to the small desk in the corner of the room that was designated just for you. The hall wasn’t the largest one on campus, but it was a close second with almost a hundred seats lining up the room in an upwards slope. And every semester, Professor Winchester had just about every seat filled. He was a hardass in those beginning weeks, making sure that anyone who was taking the class for shits and giggles needed to find something else to do. </p><p>Mythology 201 was not to be taken lightly with him. You’d never seen a man as passionate about his teachings until you wound up in his class. </p><p>“I’d imagine you’d pull some Incredible Hulk type move to get the door down,” you stated matter of factly. </p><p>His laugh echoed in the empty room giving you hope that the phone gods had done their job. After placing your bag on top of your desk, you reached in, grabbing the papers you had struggled with all weekend. You happened to notice that one of the pages had a small little stain from a splash of wine that managed to escape your sip that night, to which you also prayed wouldn’t be noticed. </p><p>Turning on your heel, you found the professor standing over his desk, his phone gingerly being placed next to his computer before he looked up at the spot you placed the essays. “How’d your weekend go?” He asked, eyeing the large stack before you. “Do anything exciting?” </p><p>
  <em>Oh, you know, just sexted you accidentally. No big deal. </em>
</p><p>“Well since a certain Professor decided to ask for a six-page paper on the forbidden fruit and what that meant per each student, I got to sit home all weekend to help him catch up.”  </p><p>He smiled at you, “Don’t act like I didn’t have my hands full.”</p><p>“And is that why you were at Sam’s at one in the morning the other day?” </p><p>“Huh?” </p><p>Your cheeks rosied as you waved off your question, sliding over the stack now. “Nothing, you just might want to take a look at the essay on the top. It sounds vaguely familiar to me.” </p><p>He nodded, settling down in the cheap rolling chair behind his desk as the same door he had struggled with earlier creaked open. “Morning Professor Winchester,” a cheery voice called down towards the two of you. “Sorry, I know I’m early.” </p><p>“It’s fine,” he waved up at her, but his eyes were glued to you as his voice lowered so that it was only directed at you. “Don’t you want to know why everyone desires their own forbidden fruit, Y/N? Isn’t there always something you’re told that you can’t have, but crave?” </p><p>Maybe it was his tone or the hard way he was eyeballing you, hell, maybe it was because of what you did, but you could have sworn he was begging to know your answer. </p><p>As you opened your suddenly dry mouth, you heard the familiar steps of fellow students making their way into the room. Many of them were pushing their way to the front, tank tops, crop tops, and sundresses of a variety of colors seemed to be showering the chairs due to the oddly warm March weather. As you had joked with Josh, this class was almost primarily women and almost all of them hoped to catch the professor’s eye. </p><p>Melissa showing up early was no mistake. You had noticed over the weeks that the “early” girls varied like they were on a schedule. It was almost as if there was some unwritten rule book you didn’t know about that tested the boundaries between student-teacher relationships. </p><p>Everyone prayed that Dean Winchester would give them the time of day. The death glares that you got because you were the one to be picked for his first-ever teaching assistant were remarkable. </p><p>Class began without a hitch, just business as usual for the next two hours. Despite all of the effort you were putting into trying to take notes that could prove useful for the upcoming quiz and possible questions you knew would come your way by the level of glazed looks in the room, you couldn’t focus on anything but the Professor’s question. </p><p>Did you have your own version of the forbidden fruit? </p><p>“Alright,” that same gruff voice from earlier echoed through as you absently scribbled down bits and pieces of the lecture you were able to get. “That’s all for today. I know it was a lot, just make sure you take the time to go over your notes and let me know if you have any questions.” </p><p>As always, the crisp sound of zippers and slight squeak of the plastic chairs rang throughout the room. You knew that even when everyone else left, you had to stay behind to see if there was anything that needed to be done before the next class. Keeping yourself busy by picking up your belongings and trying to decide where you wanted to meet your boyfriend for lunch, you didn’t notice the silence that overtook the room now. </p><p>“Y/N,” that voice was there again causing goosebumps to scatter your skin. “Do you have a minute?” </p><p>Trying to swallow that sudden lump in your throat, you turned to face moss-colored eyes. “I do.” </p><p>He gazed down at you, that same scorching look from earlier. “I, uh, I got a very interesting text from you this weekend.” </p><p>“Shit,” you whispered. “I swear, this is so embarrassing, I didn’t mean to send that to you Professor.” </p><p>“It’s Dean.” </p><p>You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Dean,” using his first name tasted foreign on your tongue, “I was trying to get my boyfriend’s attention while he was out with some friends.” You shook your head, trying to have your scrambled thoughts get themselves together, “I don’t know why it went to you.” </p><p>He didn’t even crack a smile as his eyes scanned you before him. “No ideas at all?” </p><p>“Well, one of my friends saw you at the bar and texted me…” </p><p>“Hm,” he mused, shoulders stiffening. “Alright.”</p><p>“Alright?” </p><p>A slow nod rolled off of him. “I believe it was a mistake,” he admitted, “I just wanted to get it out there on the table in the hopes of us maintaining a professional relationship.” </p><p>You mimicked his notion, your head slowly bowing towards the floor as relief flooded your body. “I’m so embarrassed.” </p><p>“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” </p><p>Now your head shot up towards him, eyes squinting against the fluorescent lights above Dean’s head. “I’m sorry?” </p><p>He shrugged, tugging the messenger bag of his up as his shoulder as he glanced at the parade of students prancing by the room, mainly of the students peeking in to get a glimpse of the Winchester himself. “I just don’t think you have anything to be embarrassed about.” </p><p>“Thanks?” </p><p>You stalled, reaching down and picking back up where you left off in collecting things expecting Dean to start his trek up the steps in the meantime. When you spun back around, you found that the man hadn’t moved, well, if he had it was closer to you. </p><p>“Did you need something else, Dean?” You pried, using the first name basis he wanted you to call him by. “Or am I okay to go now?” </p><p>He blinked, slow, and hard for a moment, before stepping back from you. “No, no, nothing else, just try and get here a little early on Wednesday, okay?” </p><p>“Just in case you have any more door troubles?” </p><p>There was a soft chuckle from him now, wiping any seriousness off of his face completely. “Something like that.” </p><p>Feeling a little less flustered than you had when you first started your day, you gave Dean a laugh. “I’ll be here.” </p><p>You skirted your way around him and made your way up the narrow pathway and back into the sunlit hallway that awaited you. Even though your stomach had been in knots all morning, you were finally feeling up to something along the lines of a burrito from the taco truck down the way. </p><p>As you were pulling out your phone to shoot Josh a message about where you meet you, Dean called out towards your receding steps. “Just my two cents, any boy you need to send that kind of picture to, he’s not worth your time.” </p><p>Coming to a halt, you turned around. “He’s been worth my time for the last six years.” </p><p>“Six years is a long time,” he stated while shaking his head as he made his way up towards where you were paused in the middle of the stairway. “Long enough that a night in with you should be more fun than being out with friends.” </p><p>“How -?” </p><p>Your question fell off your lips as you watched Professor Winchester give a curt wave and walk away nonchalantly as if none of your conversation had occurred. He whistled joyfully as he walked, making his way to the freedom you were craving.</p><p>---</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Chapter Three</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>From the moment you trailed behind the usual man of not-so-many words, you couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said to you. </p><p>Your mind just kept circling back to the fact that you put yourself out there to get your boyfriend's attention, the kind of attention that you should have been getting well before that kind of picture this was supposed to be sent out. Josh and you had been together for six years, the pressure was mounting for the relationship to have an end game - like all relationships do. The two of you talked about the future but it was always a skirted around conversation. </p><p>You thought about the countless guy’s nights over the years; the effort barely there to give you some peace of mind that he made it home okay unless you harassed him. And when you did have the time to head out with the group you were basically just a bystander. There was a time when you asked Josh if his friends liked you and he was quick to shut that down, assuring you that they weren’t used to having such an awesome girl as you tag along.</p><p>Josh said he wanted to marry you, told you countless times in the throes of passion, but kids were a touchy subject for him. Having been the child of an alcoholic father, he expressed his worry about how he’d be with children of his own. And, well, you wanted to focus on school and make sure you had a couple of years in the field before properly settling down. And as a child whose father passed away unexpectedly at such a young age, you had to see your mom bust her ass to make ends meet with little to no help. </p><p>The day you got your first job at sixteen, selling ice cream at the pool in the summer, you put all your money in a jar. You were determined to be able to provide for yourself if you needed too. </p><p>Circling back to what your future held with your long term boyfriend. </p><p>These thoughts were plaguing you heavily as you sat on the couch, your legs stretched into your boyfriend's lap while he typed frantically out on his phone. A phone he always seemed to have in his hand these days.</p><p>“Josh?” you said slowly, propping yourself up a bit until he glanced over at you for a millisecond. </p><p>He barely looked over at you as he spoke, “Yeah, babe?” </p><p>“Why didn’t you ever call me to let me know that you were home on Saturday?”</p><p>His thumbs paused, hanging in mid-air as his face twisted up in confusion. Turning his body so that he could look at you, he wet his lips. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“It’s just,” you shrugged, trying to play nonchalant about the question, “you had promised you’d call and I waited up, but you never did.” </p><p>His eyebrows were cocked now as his phone was placed screen down on the arm of the couch next to him. “I guess I was just tired.”</p><p>“Were you drinking?” </p><p>Now his face screwed into something else, something that made you know you weren’t going to like what he was about to say. “Well, yeah, I was with the guys.” </p><p>“Josh -”</p><p>“But,” those dark eyes zeroed in on you, squinting like you were hard to focus on, “my question for you is, why does it matter?” </p><p>His tone was angry, which you sort of understood seeing as he had gone out with his friends almost three nights ago now, but it didn’t justify the way his words were dripping in that uncertainty that had your own stomach in knots. “I guess, it’s just been bothering me.” </p><p>“Are you my mother?” </p><p>Now his question caught you off guard. “What?” </p><p>He threw your legs off him now, scooping up his phone and standing from the couch, but those eyes stayed stuck on where you were now sitting more upright and alert. “I’m asking you, are you, my mother?” </p><p>“No.” </p><p>“Then why the hell do I need to report to you about where I am when I’m out having a guys night.” </p><p>Something in the pit of your stomach burned, whether it was the extra jalapenos on the pizza the two of you had for dinner or the way his tone almost sounded like he was trying to avoid the real question, none of it was making you feel any less sick. “I’m sorry? Did you or did you not invite me to go out with you that night?” </p><p>“I knew you weren’t going to go,” he spat, the rage now filling his features. “I wanted to ask as a common courtesy.” </p><p>“And how is that any different than you giving me the common courtesy of knowing you got home in one piece.”</p><p>His mouth clamped shut, proving that you had made enough of a point in the deafening silence. You watched at those eyes of his blanked before he looked around the cramped apartment for a moment before heading over to the door where his shoes had been patiently waiting for him. You couldn’t look away as he slammed his heel into the things, tugging them on halfway before throwing open the door and allowing it to slam shut behind him. </p><p>And that sickly feeling only got worse as the silence continued on through the night. </p><hr/><p>As promised, you arrived at the lecture hall early. An hour and a half early to be exact, but you had been hoping that maybe Josh had seen your text about grabbing a cup of coffee from the cafe down the street and allowing you to apologize for the sudden concern of something that had already happened. There had been no reply, but you still parked yourself in the closest table just in case he showed up. </p><p>You even tried to call and it went straight to voicemail before you gave up.</p><p>“When I said early, I didn’t mean this early,” that familiar rough voice came from behind you. </p><p>Spinning around, you caught Professor Winchester’s arm in the close range of surprise. “Shit,” you mumbled, “I’m sorry.” </p><p>His eyebrows rose as he smirked at you. “Sorry for what? I did ask you to come early, I just didn’t know I had to explain how early I needed you.”</p><p>He was dressed a little more casual today - dark jeans with a white t-shirt that was paired with an open and unbuttoned red flannel. And not as surprising was the large to-go cup of coffee he was practically holding on to for dear life. To be fair, you had almost knocked the thing of his grasp. </p><p>“I was just on campus a little earlier than I intended,” you shrugged, going back to focusing on the study key in your hands before slipping back around to the other side of your desk. “When the custodian walked by, I asked if he could just go ahead and open the door and save you the trouble of almost breaking your key again.” </p><p>You didn’t have to look at him to hear the little scoff he gave before his shoes moved towards his own work area. “I should have broken the key,” he admitted towards your ducked head, “then you wouldn’t be able to bring up that incident ever again.” </p><p>“Ah, yes,” you grinned, but kept your head down, “the incident.”</p><p>He hummed slightly, causing you to glance up at where he was standing. He was still standing idly behind his desk with his laptop bag hanging off his shoulder, coffee just perched on the tip of his lips and his eyes were glued to you. Emerald eyes stared you down as you felt the pit of your stomach clench, that conversation of the forbidden fruit still very fresh in your mind. </p><p>A man like Dean Winchester was the perfect example of the forbidden fruit that many women wanted. </p><p>“Something wrong, Professor Winchester?” You asked, shoulders relaxing slightly as you looked to face him now before smoothing down the front of your blouse. “Or do I need to make sure you can actually teach today as well?” </p><p>“Dean,” he stated simply. </p><p>You didn’t care how many times the man told you to refer to him by his first name, you knew it wouldn’t be something that came easily. “Do you need me to do something, Dean?” </p><p>His lips pursed as he put his cup down, shifting his heavy bag so that it slid off his shoulder silently into his seat. “You can start by telling me what’s eating at you.” </p><p>You were thankful that you weren’t holding anything at the moment because you were sure it would have come crashing to the floor. “What?” </p><p>Dean’s gaze remained on you for a heartbeat longer before he turned his attention towards getting things out his bag and aligned along the side of his desk. Stacks of various papers, his charger for his laptop, and two textbooks were produced making your own shoulder hurt thinking about the sheer weight of carrying all that around. The man didn’t say anything as he organized himself, but you found yourself unable to look away and focus on something else. </p><p>Finally happy with his set up, those eyes looked back up at you with determination. “Do you want to talk about what is bothering you?” </p><p>“How-?” </p><p>“You tend to dress a certain way when things are bothering you, blouses and jeans especially,” he continued as if he hadn’t just cut you off. “You tend to have tea with you, chamomile from the smell when you’re extra stressed. But the biggest telltale is arriving way too early for class.” </p><p>Absolutely dumbfounded by the man a couple of feet from where you were, you kept opening and closing your mouth probably looking like a fish out of water. A shake of your head and you took a step closer to him, inspecting him intently. “And you just happen to notice these things?” </p><p>“Well not at first,” he admitted with a nod. “When I started asking you to help grade papers, you began wearing that very blouse you have on when due dates approached, the tea was something I noticed around the testing days and the earliness, well, that was just something I noticed on Monday.” </p><p>Once more, you were at a loss for words. </p><p>“Today is a three for three,” he kept going, eyes glancing at his wrist with a shrug before settling himself down in his chair and swinging those long legs of his to the top of his desk and crossing them at the ankles. “So, want to talk about it?” </p><p>You didn’t really want to talk about it, especially considering the reason that you were really feeling any sort of way was because of this very man, but the moment your mouth opened, again, everything just came tumbling out. Including just how fucking embarrassed you were about sending that picture, to begin with. Then it spilled into the whole thing about needing to seek out attention from your boyfriend and how some days you felt like he barely paid you any mind, but you had almost thought that was always normal when couples got comfortable.</p><p>Pacing back and forth in front of Dean, you wrung your hands together harshly. “And then you go and bring up how I shouldn’t need to be sending those kinds of… pictures,” you briefly caught his eye before spinning on your heel and strutting that other direction now. “To be totally honest, I never do things like that.” </p><p>“So, why did you then?” </p><p>You paused your steps now. “I- I’m not too sure.” </p><p>“I think you are.” </p><p>The sureness in his voice made your stomach clench. Rushing over towards your desk, you grabbed your thermos of calming tea and took a large gulp, knowing all too well it was probably at the cost of your taste buds. Another larger than needed sip, you turned back towards the front, “He was supposed to call when he got home.” </p><p>“Did he say how long he was going to be out?” He asked with a tilt of his now, “Maybe he just lost track of time?” </p><p>“Possibly,” you agreed. “But when he goes out with the guys, it’s never super late.” </p><p>“And he always calls when he gets home?” </p><p>“Always,” you lied with a careful nod.  </p><p>A click from somewhere at the top of the classroom echoed out towards the two of you. You didn’t need to turn around to know that it was probably Missy once more, poking her head in to get the best seat in the house and to hopefully score a little more one on one time with her favorite professor. Heels clicked with speed as Dean kept his eyes anchored where you stood, forcing you to stay cemented in your spot. </p><p>“Morning Professor,” that cheery voice echoed as it always did. “I had a couple of questions about today’s quiz.” </p><p>He gave a nod, still focused on you before speaking. “I’m sure Y/N would be more than happy to answer those for you while I finish setting up.” </p><p>You couldn’t look away, trying to gauge the man in front of you. You had been hoping for some life-changing advice, something that would help you break through this feeling of regret and confusion. Anything that could help you get back to how things were just a week ago. </p><p>His face wore a stern expression like he, himself, was trying to find the right words to say to you, but as the seconds ticked you knew you needed to move. Having a staring contest in the manner that the two of you were might raise some eyebrows. </p><p>The view behind you was laughable seeing as Missy was doing a horrible job of hiding her disappointment as you told her you’d grab your note and be right over when you finally got yourself to turn away from Dean. </p><p>You knew he was watching you as you walked back over to your desk, picking up the notes and taking another large swig of tea. Daring a chance, you pulled out your cell phone from its front pocket of your bag, hoping there would be a text from Josh. </p><p>A little alert darted across your screen as soon as you touched it to come to life. There was a message waiting for you, but one that had arrived mere seconds ago. </p><p>
  <em>All professionalism aside, let’s grab a drink after class. It’s on me. </em>
</p><p>This couldn’t be good.</p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Four;</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Chapter Four</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>The silence was deafening. </p><p>The seconds ticked on loudly by and you could hear every little breath that Dean was taking from several feet away. Any time he crossed and uncrossed his legs, the way his fingers clicked atop the keyboard and the scratching of pencils as fellow students rushed to finish their tests - the promise of release claimed when turning in their papers. </p><p>You still hadn’t replied. </p><p>There were more cons than pros to this proposition Professor Winchester was offering you. Sure, he was trying to be helpful and provide some sound advice, advice that you needed more than anything right now, but he was still a professor. The handbook clearly stated that any professor-student relationships were prohibited, which included any teaching assistants. </p><p>One by one, students began filing up towards where you were, placing their tests before you, and heading back to their seats to gather their belongings and slipping out the door. It was down to Andrea and Missy - both of them nibbling their pencils in a manner that could have been taken down a route that was anything other than deep concentration if anyone else had been watching. </p><p>“Two minutes left, ladies,” his voice reverberated in the almost empty room. “Please finish up and hand them in.” </p><p>Their shoulders slouched, clearly seeing that neither one of them would be able to get that one on one time they so desperately wanted. It was hard to fight that smirk that formed, but it also settled in another moment of panic. If you agreed to go out, and another student just happened to see the two of you - what kind of rumors would start?</p><p>Being so lost in thought, you didn’t even notice the women drop off their papers before hastily rushing out the door. Dean had been gathering his items before his bag was tossed over his shoulder and he beelined for your station. </p><p>“So,” he shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Want to head to Sam’s?” </p><p>Even though you had spent the better part of the last hour trying to find a decent enough excuse as to why you couldn’t go with him, his almost boyish manner before you had you doing a one-eighty. “I don’t see why not.” </p><p>The drive was only fifteen minutes from campus, a restaurant, and bar that many of the students and faculty frequented through the week and even more so into the weekend. You had insisted that the two of you take separate cars, even though Dean was proving to be a bit more gentlemanly than you were prepared for when he offered to drive the two of you there. You had reminded him that it was only a little after one in the afternoon and you were fully capable of having a drink and getting yourself home in one piece. </p><p>“What’ll it be?” The large man behind the counter asked as soon as the two of you were seated at the bar per Dean’s suggestion, even though there was plenty of open seating scattered about the place. “The usual?” </p><p>“The usual?” You inquired with a raised eyebrow. </p><p>Dean ignored you while giving the broad-shouldered man a smirk and a nod. He turned to you, matching your own bewildered expression with one of satisfaction, “So, what’ll it be?” </p><p>You shook your head with a chuckle before turning back to the bartender. “Just rum and coke is fine.” </p><p>He nodded before making his way back around the bar, asking a couple of other patrons if they needed anything else before reaching his destination in front of a variety of dark liquors. Looking back over at the man next to you, you tried to hide the amusement in your voice. “Come here often?” </p><p>A shake of his head and he gave you that smirk that always settled in the corner of his eyes. “Sam’s my brother.” </p><p>“What!?”</p><p>The shock must have been obvious because his smile grew considerably. “Younger, of course,” he nodded when his drink made it’s way over, only this time it was handed to him by a little blonde number. “He went to law school, got married and decided he wanted a job where he could work his own hours, so, ‘Sam’s Spot’ was born.”</p><p>“Huh.”</p><p>It was hard not to watch the other Winchester brother now, a million questions racing across your mind. Many of which had you wondering how Dean became a professor and why he chose the specific field he was in, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to poke your head in here more often. </p><p>The glass tipped towards Dean’s lips briefly before it was followed by a satisfied hum. “Going back to our earlier conversation,” he started, eyes scanning across from the two of you until he focused back in on where you were perched. “This boyfriend of yours, a good guy?” </p><p>“You know, sitting at a bar with a man who is basically my boss while discussing my private relations, pretty sure it oversteps a line.”</p><p>“Based on what I saw of you this weekend, I think we’ve passed that.” </p><p>Your cheeks flared. “Please, please tell me you don’t still have it.” </p><p>“It’s long gone.” </p><p>Relief washed over you just as your own drink made it’s way over. Taking a much-needed gulp, you counted to ten before reverting back to the earlier question at hand. “Josh, yes, I think he’s a good man.” </p><p>“How so?” </p><p>Again, totally violating a line with his intrusive questions, but you found yourself struggling to get the words out. “Well, I wouldn’t have been with him for six years if I thought otherwise.” </p><p>“Hm.” </p><p>You took another large drink and braced yourself. “You have something to say, Professor?”  </p><p>His gaze stayed ahead, if you didn’t know any better you would have thought he was trying to focus on the re-run of Bones playing on the little television above the bar. You watched as he took small sips of his drink, something that looked oddly similar to scotch before he faced you. “Can I be honest?” </p><p>“Isn’t that the whole point of this?” </p><p>He smirked, but this time it wasn’t met with the scrunch of his eyes. “I think you’ve gotten comfortable.” </p><p>“And that’s a bad thing?” </p><p>His shoulder lifted and fell with ease. “Not always, but if you felt the need to, well, send something like that to him, don’t you feel like something is lacking in other places?” </p><p>You thought back to your argument that morning. How quick he was to get on the defense and how he still hadn’t gotten back to you, leaving you almost two whole days without any word or concern. The two of you had fought before, or at least you felt like you had, but this - this felt like something different and it was pestering you like a cold sore on the tip of your lip. </p><p>“I guess, maybe.” </p><p>Dean didn’t say anything, turning his focus back to the television. Your rum and coke was starting to sour in your stomach, a wave of nausea overtaking you as you pulled out your phone to see if you had any messages. Once more you were met with an empty screen causing that sickly feeling to rile up more. </p><p>“Is that him?” </p><p>You glanced over to find Dean practically straining over your shoulder to get a look at an old photo you had as your lock screen on your phone. It was from a vacation the two of you had taken at the beach, almost two years ago, smiles, and sun-kissed skin galore while the ocean had done a number on your hair and your cheeks were a little too red from the mixture of sun and margaritas. Neither of you had really changed much with the exception of the freckles that you always acquired in the summertime. </p><p>It was always one of your favorite memories, but staring at it now, you realized it had been a while since you had seen that kind of smile from either of you. </p><p>“Yeah,” you answered with an exasperated sigh, clicking your screen off and tucking it into your bag. “Listen, Dean, I’m grateful you asked me out here, gave me some sort of insight, but I think I’m just going to head out.” </p><p>Green eyes bore into yours with unrelenting force. “Not before I tell you something.” </p><p>His tone had lost any sort of softness. “Is it another truth bomb about being comfortable?” You asked, trying to lighten the intenseness of him with a laugh. “I’m sure I can think of some ways to get around that.” </p><p>“No.” </p><p>His glass was forgotten on the bar in front of him and he had completely turned himself to focus in on where you were still awkwardly at a turn as if you were going to leave at any moment. From the way, he was behaving that was about to be very soon. “Um, okay?” </p><p>“I saw that boy here this weekend.” </p><p>A different kind of blush crept up now. “Yeah, I know,” you admitted, deciding that maybe you needed to have another sip before continuing. “One of my girlfriends said she saw you.”</p><p>“Would that be the same girl who was throwing herself at your ‘good’ boyfriend?” </p><p>Stunned, you gaped at him. “I’m sure you’re mistaken.” </p><p>“There were a group of guys, over there,” he pointed to the corner booth, next to what appeared to be a dartboard, “I remember eyeing them because they were being ungodly loud for even bar standards.” </p><p>You stayed quiet, giving just the smallest of nods to let him know you were interested. “Well,” he continued, “at one point, I remember Sam complaining about them ordering another round of shots, I glanced over and that boy and some chick were all over each other against the wall.”</p><p>Suddenly, the radio silence was starting to make sense.</p><p>“You’re lying,” you spat, rage filling you to the core. “You don’t know the man I’m with.” </p><p>“Sam!” He called out while the two of you had a staring match. The younger Winchester appeared almost instantly asking if everything was alright. Dean was quick to tell him that no, everything was far from alright. “Do you remember the large group that almost overtook the place on Saturday?” </p><p>“How could I forget?” He retorted, offering a smile clearly feeling the sudden tension. </p><p>“Would you say that kid that was slobbering all over that thing in a sundress was this guy?” </p><p>He motioned for you to bring your phone back out with a tilt of his head. You almost didn’t comply, just wanted to grab your shit and storm out - hell, you were this close to offering the TA position to Missy the next time you saw her. But, you pulled out the damn device, clicking the screen back to life once more. </p><p>The long-haired bartender squinted down at the tiny rectangle. “Yeah, that looks like him.” </p><p>Your stomach sunk. It was one thing to find out that your boyfriend was cheating on you from Dean Winchester, but to find out it was with your best friend? That was like a knife to your gut. </p><p>Dean must have realized that what he was saying finally clicked because he leaned back from you, but his eyes never wavered. Sam seemed to still be standing by, rocking on his heels while he tried to read between the two of you. “Um, anything else I can get you guys?” </p><p>“Yeah,” you said, your voice flat. “Bring me that bottle of rum.” </p><p>---</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Five;</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Chapter Five</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>Something bright was trying to wake you up, trying to push its way through your eyelashes and invading the swirling abyss of your mind. Even with your eyes closed tight, trying to push the brightness of the unknown away, you could feel the world was a little lopsided. </p><p>Your cheeks hurt. </p><p>Your feet hurt. </p><p>And holy hell, your head was pounding like the drumline at halftime. </p><p>You groaned as you felt yourself rollover in your... silky sheets? Eyes still squeezed shut, you patted your hands around the unfamiliar material vigorously solidifying the terrifying thought running through your mind. You were indeed in someone else’s bed. </p><p>“I was starting to get worried,” a voice said softly to your left, the side you were no longer facing causing you to freeze and cringe against the cool material you were pressed against. </p><p>That voice. That damned husky voice was barely a whisper over the pounding of your heart. </p><p>Afraid to open your eyes and even more afraid to turn around, you stilled in the position you were in. “Dean?” </p><p>You swore there was a soft chuckle as something that sounded like a chair scratched against the floor. “Yes.” </p><p>Another groan and you wanted to punch yourself back into last night where you could tell drunk Y/N that there was a reason you don’t down a bottle of rum like it’s water. Especially when you are with Professor Sexy Winchester. </p><p>“Um,” you carefully moved now so that you could squint your eyes open and look at the man, who was wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt, before squeezing that back shut again. “Where am I?” </p><p>“My apartment.” </p><p>Stomach clenched; whether from the upcoming question, you were about to ask or nausea that was about to follow the hangover of a lifetime. “And… why am I in your apartment?” </p><p>“You don’t remember?” </p><p>If you could shoot a glare at him you would have. “If I remembered, would I have asked?” </p><p>He stayed quiet, but even in your pretend illusion of darkness, you heard him clear his throat before the pads of his feet slap the wooden floors you had caught a glimpse of. And oddly enough, you had a very dizzy memory of something that involved a scuff on the floor followed by a fit of giggles and some water? </p><p>Jesus, you can only imagine the mess you had made last night. </p><p>“Well, before I start,” you heard him on the other side of you now, the bed dipping slightly. “I need you to sit up and drink some water.” </p><p>While you wanted to fight, tell him you didn’t care about drinking some water and that he just needed to get the point before you stomached through finding your way back home to your own place - you slowly sat yourself up and grumbled as you peeled your eyelids apart. Dean sat next to you, green eyes roaming where you were while a hand held out what looked like the largest mason jar filled to the brim with hydrating goodness. </p><p>You downed the thing almost as quickly as you were sure you downed your adult beverage the night before. Cradling the glass in your hands, you looked down at your lap finally noticing that you were still fully clothed. “So, I’m not naked.” </p><p>There was another little laugh. “Fully clothed.” </p><p>Daring yourself, you looked over at him. “Then why am I here?” </p><p>“Well, what’s the last thing you remember?” </p><p>“Uh,” you turned your gaze back down to your lap. “Asking Sam for a whole bottle of rum.” </p><p>“Damn, you don’t drink much do you?” </p><p>The snort that came out of you was far from ladylike. “When I decided to start grad school, I cut back to just my weekend wine.” </p><p>His eyebrow quirked as he dipped his head slightly before it was followed by a light shake. When he managed to look back up at you, he was wearing a lop-sided smirk that you knew so many women longed to see a glimpse of in the classroom. “So, you went from one extreme to the next then.” </p><p>“Sounds about right.” </p><p>He shook his head once more but made no effort to get up from the spot he was occupying. “How much do you want to know?” </p><p>“All of it.” </p><p>He watched the rise and fall of his chest as he took a long, deep breath before looking at where your hands were clutching your glass in your lap. “It started off fun, you just knocking back shots and bitching about all the shit you had put up with Josh. Stating that you bent over backward for him and his family, only for them to constantly have something to say about the smallest little things.” </p><p>Nodding, carefully, you waited for him to continue. “You told me you had a tattoo, one that you hid from his family very well at the beach last summer because they would have had a bitch fit about it and say that you were such a bad influence on their son. All of it was really comical, to be honest.” </p><p>“Don’t lie to me Prof -, Dean,” your stomach was balled up now, sensing that there was something more he was holding back from you. “I did something really stupid didn’t I?”</p><p>He was silent. </p><p>“I drunk dialed him, didn’t I? Or, god, please don’t tell me I tried to get up on the bar and dance?” His face didn’t waver as you spouted out various possibilities that would cause his silence. “Did I throw up somewhere? Did I get banned from Sam’s?” </p><p>A hint of a smile peaked out of the corners of his mouth. “No, no, but I did have to take your phone at some point to prevent you from doing that, well, at least I know it would have been something that I would have done at your level.” </p><p>“So then what the hell did I do?” </p><p>This time, Dean stood up, pacing his way to the foot of the large king-sized bed. For the first time, you actually used a moment to glance around the fairly bare room, just a large dresser to your right and an oversized mirror on the opposite side. There were a couple of pillows scattered across the floor, most likely your doing, and the large black duvet that was splayed over your lap and causing you to feel the leftover heat from your hangover. </p><p>While you had always just assumed that the professor didn’t have a woman in his life, the lack of things alone basically confirmed that theory. One that you had shared with your best friend - well your now ex-best friend it seemed. </p><p>“What I’m about to say is completely your words, okay?” </p><p>Shit. </p><p>“Okay,” you said slowly, keeping your eyes on the way he was strutting back and forth in front of you thinking about how the other day you were doing the very same thing at his desk. “Drunk Y/N clearly had some balls of steel or something last night.” </p><p>Another ghost smirk, but he kept moving. “You made a bit of a proposition towards me.” </p><p>Ah, there was that stomach-clenching need to throw up once more. Deciding that if it came down to it and you had to blow chunks all over this man’s bed, it would probably be a hell of a lot less embarrassing than whatever he was skirting around saying. “Okay…?” </p><p>He paused now, that little smirk present as he glanced down at his feet like one does when they are embarrassed. “It - uh - it was, I don’t even think I can think of a word.” </p><p>“Jesus fucking christ man, spit it out before I do it for you.” </p><p>His eyes danced playfully at where you were sitting like he was loving keeping you in this state of suspense. “You said that we should get back at him by finally hooking up.” </p><p>The color completely drained from your face as the sweat on the back of your neck increased. “Finally?” You whispered. “I really said, finally?” </p><p>“It was cute, really,” he continued. “You muttered that you were always staying home these days because of trying to help me grade papers and quizzes and all that, which I greatly appreciate as I said last night.” </p><p>“But then you mentioned that the night in question, your boyfriend brought up that you spent way too much time with me and that maybe he did what he did because he thought that we were fooling around.” </p><p>It made sense really, you thought to yourself. Maybe somewhere deep in the darkest parts of your mind you had thought about what it would be like to be with Professor Winchester. You had all the time, before classes, in-between and now you apparently had been in his apartment. There were endless ways that someone could skew your relationship to their liking and clearly trying to reason with something other than the fact that Josh was a lying scumbag, you had to admit you had a point. </p><p>“I guess I like to embarrass myself with you,” you admitted, forcing yourself to look away now and focus on how to use your legs again. The things felt like weighted jello. “First I stupidly send you a suggestive photo and then I drunkenly try to get you to sleep with me.”</p><p>It took a whole minute for you to get your legs over the side of the bed before you carefully toed the floor beneath you. “I’ll have my resignation letter on your desk first thing in the morning and can even give you recommendations for a replacement.” </p><p>You swore you blinked and those plaid pants were in front of you, reminding you of the shirt he was wearing yesterday as well. “Why would you do that?” </p><p>The stripes decorating those pants were starting to give you a headache just by staring at them. “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve clearly crossed several lines this week alone. God forbid something gets out, I’d lose my position, my scholarship, and probably several other things.” </p><p>“And you think I’d just get off scot-free?” </p><p>You shrugged, looking away now and trying to think of where your things would be. Could they be hiding in the very minimal room or would the more logical answer be that they were waiting for you somewhere downstairs? </p><p>“Y/N,” his voice was soft now, like those silk sheets you had woken up on, cool and comforting in the same sort of way. “You don’t want to know what I said?” </p><p>You wanted to shout, yes! More than anything in the world you were curious to know what the man who had the school on standby would have to say about your lovely drunk ideas, but you knew, either way, it would change anything. What happened, happened and you could either go on pretending like it didn’t or resign. </p><p>Right?</p><p>When you didn’t give him an answer, he took it as his cue to step closer to you. You could smell the clean cotton scent of his clothes before a hand snaked out and reached for your chin causing you to still completely at the sudden touch. The two of you had only ever brushed elbows here or there, so feeling the calloused kiss of his skin against yours had your heart racing. </p><p>By a god damn touch. </p><p>He tugged, gently, in an effort for you to look up at him. You were too stunned by the touch to fight back, so when he met you with those moss-colored eyes of his, you felt parched of any words. “Do you want to know?”</p><p>As if you had no say in the action, you pulled your chin further into his grasp in an effort to nod. You stayed silent as you watched him squat in front of you like you were just a child who needed to know why they had been in timeout for the last twenty minutes. Those eyes wandered your face agonizingly slow while you were fixated on the way his lips were parted ever so slightly. </p><p>“I wouldn’t say no.” </p><p>Eyes wide, you looked up from his lips to his eyes and back again, several times as if you were trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t real. None of it was. You were still drunk, passed out in bed at home and your liquor-soaked brain was clingy to something that would prevent you from spiraling. </p><p>Dean tilted his head now and you could tell he was trying not to smile at you like he was also trying to read your reaction. “You’re beautiful. You have a smart head on your shoulders and you clearly need to let loose a lot more.” </p><p>Finally finding the right words to say, you carefully tugged your face out of his grasp. “What are you saying?” </p><p>“I’m saying,” he leaned back on his heels, but stayed at eye level with you. “If you need something to keep your mind occupied, you know where to find me.” </p><p>“Are you sure?” </p><p>Now that grin was there, toying with your thoughts once more as he slowly stood up. You couldn’t turn your gaze away from where a very present bulge had nowhere to hide in those loose-fitting cotton pants. “That picture you sent me, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”</p><p>---</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Chapter Six</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>You had gone home, showered, downed some more water and pain relievers before parking yourself at the dining room table with your laptop open and a blank word document staring you in the face. And once more, your mind was blank.</p><p>Dean Winchester openly admitted that he would be okay with pursuing an affair with you. One that would cost the two of you a hell of a lot more than what usually was tagged along when sleeping with someone new.</p><p>You knew it was wrong, but why couldn’t you bring yourself to type out your resignation letter?</p><p>The bright white of the screen dimmed as you barely made an effort to type your words out, the words that you could barely make sense of in your head. While you were sure you could have blamed it on your hangover, you knew that in the pit of your stomach and the pitch in that man’s pants - you were considering the offer at hand.</p><p>Thursday came and went with a mixture of sporadic couch naps, drowning yourself in enough water, and ordering Chinese take out until you finally started to feel like yourself again. Even when you were able to form a proper thought that wasn’t clouded with last night’s adventure, you still were at a loss of what to do.</p><p>Zipping up your bag, you brushed down your skirt in an effort to smooth out any wrinkles before making your way to the door. Doing that mental check to make sure you had all the important things, like your wallet, cellphone, and keys before twisting the handle to face whatever choice you were about to make.</p><p>What you weren’t expecting was to find Josh standing there with his fist still hanging in mid-air. “Hey,” he said softly, dark eyes looking down at you while he fist relaxed and fell to his side. “Do you have a minute?”</p><p>You wanted to throat punch him. “No, not for you.”</p><p>“What does that mean?”</p><p>Ignoring his unwillingness to move out of your way, you squeezed in between him and the door while sliding the thing shut and hearing the click of the lock behind you. Continuing on your way, you headed down the steps while praying that you had remembered to park your car closer to the entrance of your building so that you could just bolt and run.</p><p>You really didn’t want to have to deal with any more than necessary today.</p><p>“Y/N,” Josh shouted from behind you, heavy footsteps following his words, “I came to talk to you.”</p><p>Your car was not as close as you had been hoping, but enough that a little bit of a jog would get you in the driver’s seat with seconds to spare. “I’m not talking to you Josh,” you called over your shoulder, picking up your speed now. “Your silence was enough to tell me that this is over.”</p><p>“Hold on,” those heavy steps resounded after you fiercely, causing your heart to race as you heard him getting closer now. “Y/N, seriously, I need to talk to you.”</p><p>With every step you took, you felt that anger from the other night bubble up. You felt the years you spent with that cheating bastard, the promises that he made to you in the middle of the night, the tears the two of you had shared, the memories of when you first got your own place, and window shopping for the furniture for a future house the two of you would one day live in - all of it gone in a puff of poor judgment.</p><p>Fingers just barely grasping the steel handle of the door, you felt the harsh grasp of Josh’s grip on your forearm. “Y/N.”</p><p>“What?” You glowered.</p><p>You heard him sigh before letting go of your arm as you shifted ever so slightly to see if you’d actually hit him on your way out of the parking lot. “I’m sorry I haven’t called.”</p><p>You stayed silent as you glared at him. Taking your silence as your acceptance, he shifted on his feet before clearing his throat. “I just hate when you act like you need to be my parent, it makes me feel like I’m not enough. You always act like you are so much more mature and better than me sometimes and I just want you to relax and have a little fun.”</p><p>Gaslighting - lovely.</p><p>“Like the kind of fun you had on Saturday with Karlee?”</p><p>That seemed to be the money shot because it was comical how quickly his jaw unhinged from the rest of his face. “Did she tell you?”</p><p>Another thing you were beyond pissed about was that it had to be your fucking best friend; the one you confided in about so much shit. Fights you had with Josh, that pregnancy scare in the middle of senior year, and the crap you had to deal with when it came to your mother and her neediness from time to time - she just threw it all away for some dick.</p><p>Dick that was supposedly all yours.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” you spat, turning yourself around and yanking open the door so hard it was bound to leave a bruise on your exposed knee. “We are over. You and Karlee can have each other.”</p><p>“This wouldn’t have happened if you actually gave me a little more of your time instead of being a floor mat for Professor Winchester.”</p><p>“Fuck you.”</p><p>Slipping into the driver’s seat, you were quick to twist your keys in the ignition before speeding out of the lot. You had to resist the urge to look at your rearview mirror and glance at Josh’s face, knowing that he was probably dumbfounded by your lack of kindness. This behavior was out of character for you; having always been the type of person to give the benefit of the doubt, to know that there were two sides to every story, but you had never felt more betrayed than you did right now.  </p><p>The world seemed to slip by into nothingness while you focused on the white lines blurring on by until you found your car pulling into your usual parking spot on campus. Just like Dean had noticed, you were an hour early and not nearly any less pissed than when you left.</p><p>“Fucking hell,” you muttered, that anger nestling deeper into the pit of your stomach now.</p><p>Shoving open your door now, you yanked your bag out of your seat and made your way towards your destination. More memories came raining down now, the way you turned friends away when he’d say he wasn’t comfortable with them, the parties you had to escort him out of because he couldn’t hold his drink or better yet the one night that he refused to tell you where he was because he was just that shit-faced and he didn’t want to hear you lecture him. Or your personal favorite, the number of orgasms you had to fake because coaching him on what you liked was similar to being kicked in the balls for him. The signs were all there, the ones that were just like his father, but you were blind to them.</p><p>You thought it was love.</p><p>The light was on, meaning that Mr. Winchester was most liking awaiting your early arrival - that didn’t seem to help your growing agitation. Why the hell did the man you were working for know you better than your own boyfriend?</p><p>And how fucked up was it that it excited you to know that your boss paid attention to those things?</p><p>Parading your way into the lit lecture hall, you paused at the top of the stairs thinking that Dean would have heard your disgruntled steps by now, but if he did, he wasn’t showing any signs of acknowledgment. You didn’t know whether to be relieved or irked that the man was ignoring your presence now - after you spent the better part of the morning stressing over what you were going to do.</p><p>The anger bubbled over now, the mixture of seeing Josh and the broad-shouldered man at the bottom of the steps, you were at your limit. “Morning Professor,” you clipped, turning on your heel and heading back over towards where the door was still ajar.</p><p>His head perked up as he looked over his shoulder, a small smirk gracing those lips. “Mornin’, Y/N. Feeling better?”</p><p>You kept your eyes on him as you grabbed the door handle, his eyebrow giving away at his curiosity before you carefully closed the door. “Much better,” you admitted, fingering the lock carefully before twisting it with a satisfying tick. “Josh stopped by this morning.”</p><p>Dean’s full attention was on you now. The door was locked and you were taking your sweet time walking down those poorly carpeted steps, your heels echoed into the large room while his eyes grew larger with each inch closer you got. “Oh?” His perfect lips stayed pursed now. “How’d that go?”</p><p>“I told him he could go fuck himself.”</p><p>His eyes were fixed on your movements until you were standing before him, the soft chuckle still present on his mouth. “That was it?”</p><p>Nodding, you dropped your bag to the ground without a care. Not like there was anything of importance in there anyway. “Then I hopped in my car and drove here.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>“And,” you glanced down at where his hands were resting briefly, just below where his belt buckled, before meeting those mossy eyes of his again. “I thought about what I should do - about us.”</p><p>“I assumed if you were putting in your resignation letter, you wouldn’t have shown today.”</p><p>Your shoulder rose and fell as you stepped closer to him, noting the way he was leaning against his desk like the two of you were talking about the impending storm for that evening. “Yeah, well, it turns out I really need a distraction.”</p><p>His eyebrows rose as his mouth opened, but no words came out for a solid couple seconds. You used his silence as an excuse to get even closer, push your body against his, allowing your breasts to lean into his chest. He remained still for a moment before his hands found their way to your hips, keeping you close. His breathing was heavy and rushed like he was trying to catch his breath, but you were the thing sucking it out of him with the seconds that ticked by. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you thought the Professor was nervous from the same proposition he had offered you less than forty-eight hours ago.</p><p>“So?” You pried, keeping your eyes on his. “What do you say?”</p><p>He swallowed loudly. “Pinch me, I’m dreaming?”</p><p>You shook your head, your light laugh getting lost in the way your hands had moved towards his buckle, sliding the leather through the clasp and tugging it open with ease. “Do you need proof?”</p><p>Knowing what his answer would be, you quickly slid down his zipper, his cock betraying his unsureness as it pushed against the stiff fabric of his pants. Dean didn’t stop you as you pulled him out before slowly sinking to your knees in front of him.</p><p>Those lips of his remained parted while you began your slow torture of the one and only Professor Winchester. Your tongue slipped out and licked at his tip, twirling a bit just to taste him before you took as much of him as you could in your mouth.</p><p>“Holy shit,” you heard him mutter above you.</p><p>Allowing your tongue to run along the bottom of his length, you began to move up and down rather slowly as first, letting your tongue do most of the work while your hand held him firmly at his base, pumping him as you moved. The soft little curses and words of utter amazement had you picking up speed in no time, taking more and more of him as you did.</p><p>“Y/N,” he whispered as his hand reached the back of your head. “Hold on for a second.”</p><p>Pulling back now, you kept him in your grasp as you looked up from him. “Do you not want this?”</p><p>He groaned, gesturing for you to stand up as he made the effort to tuck himself in. “Far from it.”</p><p>“Do I suck? I’ve never really given a blow job before,” you admitted, heat flooding your cheeks as you stood prudently. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”</p><p>You went to turn, thinking you could pick up your bag and just walk out of here as if nothing happened. You could email the professor your letter and pray he never would breathe a word of it to anyone, but his firm grasp stopped you.</p><p>“Far from it.” Dean tugged you gently until you were facing him until you saw him resituate his belt. “It’s just… I don’t trust myself to stay composed for a whole class having you sitting three feet away from me with that kind mouth.”</p><p>Any unease from your choice of actions was washed away as the praise rolled off. An idea struck you as you grinned up at the tall man before you,  “You can always end class early.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s happening.”</p><p>—</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Seven;</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Chapter Seven</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>It was like a fog had been lifted. </p><p>For the first time in, well forever, you were looking at the Professor in a completely different light. If you had been sitting with the students, you knew you’d be just like everyone else and be giving him “fuck-me” eyes the whole time he was pacing the classroom. It didn’t help that you were pretty positive the man was giving them to you first. Or the ever so casual swipe of his tongue along his bottom lip when his eyes fluttered over to you. </p><p>Then there was the casual touching - he kept walking behind your desk like he was glancing over your shoulder to check your notes, but would sneak in a little light caress of the shoulder or a slight sweep of stray hair. The pacing behind you wasn’t out of the ordinary, in fact, you knew it was the very reason so many of the women gave you death glares in class. It was quick, no one would think anything other than he just happened to step too close and brush you, but you knew otherwise. </p><p>By the time you heard him tell the class to gather their things and read the appropriate chapters for Monday, you were squeezing your thighs together in pure agony of what you were missing. </p><p>“Professor,” a little brunette bitch piped up while sliding her way out of her desk, those perky eighteen-year-old breasts bouncing with each step she took until she was peering up at him. “I was hoping I could have a minute of your time.” </p><p>Eyes darted to the top of the girls’ head and over to where you were standing, staring of course, at what was holding him up. “Uh, yeah, yeah, what can I help you with?” </p><p>“Well,” she took a small step closer and you felt that hot flood of jealousy fill your chest with a labor inhaled. “I was hoping I could get a little one on one time with you to talk about the end of the semester project.”</p><p>“Abigal,” those eyes darted back to you, “if you really need to talk to me, you can shoot me an email over the weekend or come during my office hours.” </p><p>The damn girl poked out her bottom lip. “Oh. I think I might need a little more help then.” </p><p>“And that’s why I have Y/N.” </p><p>You couldn’t help the glare you cast in their direction, but Abby was trying too hard. Sure, it was known that almost anyone would do anything to get into Dean Winchester’s pants, but no one had actually had the nerve to try. Well, you did, but to be fair the man had propositioned you first. </p><p>Clearing your throat, you carefully walked your way over to where they were standing. “Sorry to interrupt, Abby, but Professor Winchester has an important meeting he needs to get too.” </p><p>The young brunette looked between the two of you, but your gaze stayed on her. “Oh, okay,” she said carefully, drawing out the vowel before taking a step back. Her eyes continued to hover back and forth between you and the professor, “I guess I’ll make an appointment then.” </p><p>Dean nodded at her as you both watched her sulk out of the lecture hall, like a puppy who had been caught and was trying to make their way with their tail between their legs. As soon as that door clicked shut, the realization of what had just happened washed over you - you had acted like a jealous, possessive partner. </p><p>“Ah, shit,” you muttered to yourself, turning slowly to meet those green eyes that were looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a million unsaid questions. “I’m sorry.” </p><p>“What exactly are you sorry for?” </p><p>You opened your mouth and paused. “My behavior?” </p><p>The man shrugged - he shrugged at you like it was nothing. “I still don’t think that’s anything to apologize about.” </p><p>“What?” You shook your head at him. “That was… that was all kinds of unprofessional of me.” </p><p>Another goddamn shrug from the man and he turned his back to you. You watched for a moment as he gathered his various items, coffee cup, laptop and notes before shoving everything in a bag without a care in the world. “I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing.” </p><p>This man was something else. </p><p>“So,” he shifted a couple of the papers around so that his bag could zip with ease, “Your place or mine?” </p><p>“Uh, I… I don’t know.” </p><p>He gave you the side-eye as he skirted around you, tugging on your elbow gently as a silent message to get your ass moving. “Are you sure you want to do this?” </p><p>That ache from earlier was back - that heat between your legs swirling around in the pit of your stomach with the promise of what could happen if you just let it. “I’ve never been more sure.” </p><p>His eyes searched your face, but you didn’t waver. You stood a little taller, chin jutting out towards him and you crossed your arms while he took you in. The shy little teacher’s assistant who had walked in his life months ago was no more, she left when you decided to grab a drink with your boss was a good idea. For all you knew, she was still a little intoxicated on the idea of being with Professor Winchester. </p><p>Those pouty lips of his parted as he took a careful step towards you, a shutter of breath leaving him softly. “There’s a motel a couple of miles down the road.” </p><p>“Text me the address.” </p><hr/><p>It took you fifteen minutes to get there. The two of you had agreed that he’d leave first, text you from the car and then you’d trail behind after you saw his truck leave the parking lot. </p><p>While you knew the chances of getting caught were slim, you also had to remember the way Abby looked at you and your sudden reaction to someone else trying to make a move on that handsome devil - you just couldn’t be too careful right now. Especially not when your own emotions seemed to be a little haywire. </p><p>
  <em>Room 20A</em>
</p><p>The text was short and sweet, popping up on the screen of GPS like a beacon of light. </p><p>You swiveled the car into an empty parking space, one that was slightly tucked in the spots that you were always told to stay away from when you were alone. Your heart suddenly pounding in your chest as the nerves started to get to you. This was really about to happen. </p><p>“What the fuck am I doing?” You asked yourself as you turned the car off, eyeing the building in front of you like at any moment someone was going to come out and tell you that you were part of a prank show. “I can just turn around. I can just go home, write that letter and move on with my life.” </p><p>But was that what you wanted? To go back to the boring life that was enough for your boyfriend to cheat on you? </p><p>A deep breath and you swung open the driver’s side door, grabbing your purse and slamming the door with purpose as you headed up the stairs with the appropriate arrows. You counted the steps to the room,  it was the one at the end of the hall, tucked away from busy streets and visitors who might walk by. </p><p>Your hand had a mind of its own as it tapped quickly against the dark stained wood. Dean appeared in front of you in a flash, eyeing you briefly before glancing at the way you came and ushering you inside with urgency. </p><p>You had barely turned back around to greet him once more when his mouth was on yours. Suddenly, all tension and uncertainty you had been bogged down with every painful step was washed away as his tongue slid along your bottom lip; and god damn did that make your knees start to go weak. </p><p>“I wasn’t sure you’d actually come,” he whispered against your mouth as his hands slid down to cup your ass carefully, pulling you closer to his warmth. </p><p>“Neither was I.” </p><p>His mouth assaulted you deliciously as he pushed you back until you felt your knees hit the mattress. When he pulled away, you found his hands had now moved to cup your cheeks while his green eyes felt like they were trying to look into your soul. “Are you sure you want to do this?” </p><p>Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as your stomach clenched. Any words you wanted to say were swallowed by the beauty of the man in front of you, so all you could summon was a careful nod. He continued to look at you, probably trying to make sure this was in fact what you wanted - so you took the moment to let your hands be your voice and grasp the top button of his shirt. </p><p>His sharp inhale was all you needed as your fingers began the quick movements until his chest was bare before you. Dean was quick to shed his shirt before he reached out for you once more, only this time he gave you a gentle push until you were sitting at the foot of the bed now, looking up at him from just below the belt. </p><p>You licked your lips as you eyed his buckle with interest. “Should we continue where we left off?” </p><p>“Mmm,” his eyes flickered for a moment. “No. I think it’s my turn.” </p><p>“Your turn- Oh.” </p><p>In a flash, you were flat on your back, the shirtless Professor was hovering over you carefully for a moment before you felt his hands sneak up under the hem of your skirt as his eyes were glued to your face. A whimper escaped as his thumb ran over your sensitive numb causing him to pause for a moment before his index finger looped over your panties and giving them a rough tug. </p><p>He shimmied himself down now, knees hitting the carpet softly while he kneeled just below your eye line. You heard him take a deep breath before you felt his hands push your skirt up until was just bunched fabric at your waist. “You’re absolutely beautiful.” </p><p>Heat rushed to all parts of your body, but it was mainly focused on where he was closest, his breath warming your core and you swore he inched closer. You expected there to be a warning when his mouth would be on you, but there was nothing before his tongue between your legs. </p><p>The moan that escaped you was involuntary as he licked at your entrance before you felt him grip the side of your thighs and scooting you closer to where he was, his tongue finding that hot spot of yours causing you to squirm against his grasp. He steadied you though, keeping you in place while he lapped at you like you were the sweetest honey he’d ever had. </p><p>Josh had never gone down on your before, always had some sort of excuse as to why he wasn’t comfortable with the idea, but he was more than okay to have you do all the dirty work. So when Dean’s tongue circled your nub of nerves for the third time, you felt your body begin to betray you. You came hard and fast against him while his hands kept you pinned to his mouth until you were finished. </p><p>“I take that back,” Dean said slowly reappearing into your line of sight, his chin slick with you as he brought himself back to hover over your slack frame, “that had to have been the most beautiful sight I’ve ever had the chance to witness.” </p><p>You shook your head, your brain feeling like it was scrambled beyond repair. “I’ve… I’ve never had that happen before.” </p><p>“You’ve never had an orgasm?”</p><p>A curt laugh barked out of you as those mossy eyes glanced down at you. “Well, I needed a little help, but I’ve never had someone go down on me.” </p><p>“Ever?” </p><p>“Ever.” </p><p>He shook his head, eyes never leaving yours as they grew wider. “Well, let me just say that any men you’ve been with, they are missing out on that view.” </p><p>Your heart was still pounding in your chest, while you were pretty sure it was still from the high you were working to come down from, you knew that his words were not helping. Unsure of what to say next, you leaned yourself up, planting your lips on him curtly before pulling away and sitting up causing him to scoot away from you slightly. </p><p>“What are you doing?” He asked, matching your actions with an extreme sense of urgency. </p><p>“Taking off my shirt,” you stated, pulling the top button loose before quickly making your way down the rest until you were left in just your bra. “Something tells me I won’t be needing it.” </p><p>His smirk was the only answer you needed as he jumped up and followed suit, stripping himself of his pants, but not before you noticed he wasn’t wearing anything underneath them, leaving him in all his glory before you. How hadn’t you noticed earlier that he wasn’t wearing boxers was beyond you, but right now you were grateful for the view. </p><p>Dean was quick to lean back over you, unclasping your bra like it was nothing before tossing it to the side of the bed and slipping off the rest of your skirt allowing you to be bare before him. Normally, you would have felt self-conscious, be trying to cover up your flaws, but with Dean, he made you feel… different. </p><p>He was on you before you could think anymore, his lips crushing you as his body pinned you against the bed. The two of you were a mess of limbs and groans before he broke away with just enough time to fish around in his pockets. </p><p>“Shit,” he whispered against your labored breathing. </p><p>You knew where this was going before he even said anything. “Don’t worry,” you stated, tugging him back towards your lips. “We’re good.” </p><p>An eyebrow quirked just ever so slightly as he stalled. You knew what the two of you were doing was a huge risk to get caught, but should something bigger happen in the event of your actions - well, you’d both be in a lifetime of hot water. “Are you sure?” </p><p>It didn’t need an answer, you pulled the man back towards you and pressed your own mouth again him while pressing lightly on his shoulder until his back was against the scratchy cotton comforter and you were the one hovering over him like he was your prey. You straddled just above him before pulling away. </p><p>For the first time in months, you were all too aware of the fact that you hadn’t felt desired in quite some time, not like this at least. Not with a man whose face was looking at you with hooded eyes and whose hands were touching every inch of skin that it could. Screw the consequences, it was time that you let yourself go. </p><p>Even if it was just a decent ride. </p><p>Dean’s mouth parted against your own and you used the moment to slip your tongue in, your hips rocked lightly against his erection. He tasted like hazelnut coffee creamer and something musky - that something you could only imagine was you as you teased his tongue with your own. His hands gripped your hips, pausing the circles you were doing on top of him just as he paused at your entrance. He was silently asking you to do what he wanted and you were more than happy to oblige. </p><p>Slowly, you lowered yourself down on to him, feeling every little inch stretch you as you groaned against his mouth unable to stifle it. The moment you were fully seated, you held yourself there, getting used to how he felt inside of you, and that alone had your walls clenching around him. A couple of seconds ticked by and you began the slow rock of your hips against him as you felt his fingertips grasp you tightly. </p><p>You got the feeling that Dean was a man who was used to be in control, so you taking the lead was something unknown to him. He didn’t stop you though, he used his hands to encourage you, his hips bucking up to meet you as you moved on top of him. His lips never left yours as the two of you picked up speed in between rocks, you coming down faster and more aggressive until you felt that same wave wash over from before. </p><p>“Fuck,” Dean finally grunted out as he felt you still on top of him. </p><p>His hands held you in place as he thrust himself to meet you, fucking you through another orgasm as you fought your way through remembering how to move when you noticed his own speed picking up and the way you were absently rubbing against him. You knew it was too late when he pushed deep, holding himself there as you felt him shudder inside of you. </p><p>Still slouched over him, you took a shaky breath before carefully slipping off and flopping on your back to stare at the dark ceiling above you. There was no noise except a horn from somewhere in the outside world and your shared heavy breathing for what felt like hours, but Dean was quick to shoot up and look over at you. </p><p>“Got any plans this weekend?” </p><p>Heart finally slowing, you glanced over at him with a shake of your head. “Should I?” </p><p>That crooked grin was all you needed. </p><hr/><p> </p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Eight;</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Chapter Eight</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>One weekend turned into two weeks before you knew it. </p><p>It was easy to get lost in the world of Dean Winchester. It was even easier to play the part of his teaching assistant during the day while thinking about all the things he wanted to do to you when the day was done. Even your choice in outfits was getting to be a little different than what you usually stuck with. You were beginning to take pleasure in surprising the Professor with a little lower than the normal cut of a blouse, maybe a couple of inches shorter of a skirt. </p><p>Nothing that anyone else would really pick up on except him, as he was quick to grab your ass as you cleaned up for the day. </p><p>“You’re killing me today,” he whispered as he released your cheek and circled around to your front. “You couldn’t wear pants?” </p><p>“And where would the fun in that be?” </p><p>A growl practically rumbled out of him as he leaned back against the wall of your little workspace watching as you gather your things with urgency. “Got any plans today?” </p><p>“No,” you shook your head, stealing a glance up towards the tall man. “Hoping to get lucky.” </p><p>He pushed off the wall now, strutting towards you quickly, his hand reaching out to grasp your chin. Those green eyes of yours roamed your face carefully before he leaned in, his lips brushing against your softly for a brief second. “You’re coming over tonight, right?” </p><p>The breath of space between your mouth and his own was too much as you attempted to use your toes to reach him. “Is that what you want?” </p><p>“Mmm,” he released you now, taking a step back and crossing his arms across his chest, “what I really want is to bend you over my desk and do some damage to that skirt.” </p><p>That heat, you were sure you permanently wore on your cheeks when you were around him, seeped through your skin. “That could happen.” </p><p>“Now?” </p><p>Because the universe loved to fuck with you, the door squeaked open at the top of the hall, a dark head peeking in through the crack. “Uhm, Professor?” </p><p>That voice was like nails on a chalkboard for you - for a number of reasons. One, it was someone who was easier to lay down than a blanket and two, it was your former best friend. Yep, the very one that thought fucking with your boyfriend and then go on with life like it was nothing was interfering with you possibly having some of the best sex of your life. You were pretty positive, you visibly shuddered at the noise before turning yourself to the large chalkboard at the front of the room, your back straight and rigid while your heart began that drumline of war. And, three, it was getting in the way that could have you bent over the very piece of furniture you were focusing on. </p><p>“Yes?” Dean called up towards her, his eyes shifting from her to you as you shook your head slowly at him. “What can I help you with?” </p><p>You heard the way the door open and squealed shut like it always did. You heard the way her sandals slapped against the ground as she made her descend towards the two of you and you could smell that scent of bubblegum that she always chewed from a mile away.</p><p>“Actually, yeah,” she paused and you could feel the way she was staring at your back, “I’m supposed to be taking your class next semester and I was wondering if there would be any openings for a teaching assistant.” </p><p>From the side of your eye, you noticed the way that Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Why would you think I need a teaching assistant next semester?” </p><p>“Well, you know, just if you do…” she paused and you could hear the way she was shifting in her stance, probably hugging her textbooks to make herself seem more vulnerable and unsure of herself. “Just keep me in mind.” </p><p>“I suppose I can.” </p><p>He was being polite, but you knew that this was something else entirely. She was up to something, you could feel it in the air, the way she was hanging around as you just stood there pretending to be focusing on the stack of notes in your arms before taking a step towards Professor Winchester’s desk and placing them down. </p><p>“Y/N?” Her voice spiked through your thoughts now. “Are you going to look at me?” </p><p>Once more, you stilled, eyes focusing on the name of the student on the top of the paper in your hands, but it was nothing, but a blur for you. You could make out the shapes of the letters, but your brain was frozen. “Why do I need to look at you?” </p><p>She sighed, “I just… I have something for your mom.” </p><p>Now you stiffened for a completely different reason. “You can give it to her,” you stated, turning yourself just ever so slightly so that you could get a good look at her. To be honest, she had better days. “You know she’ll ask where you are anyway.” </p><p>“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, slipping an envelope out of her bag and stretching her hand out towards you. “I don’t think it’s a good idea that I come by.” </p><p>Glaring at the sealed pouch, you snatched it quickly from her grasp. “Thank you.” </p><p>Karlee gave a soft nod at you, her eyes searching your face before turning back towards the Professor. “On second thought, I think that whatever you do, you should try and keep Y/N around,” her gaze caught yours once more, “she’s a hard one to replace.” </p><p>You watched as she turned back towards the steps, her sandals smacking the ground once more as she rushed her way out of the large lecture hall. Your chest was tight like you had been holding in a breath before you felt Dean’s arm snake around your waist, twirling you so that you were no longer staring at the closed door. </p><p>“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. “Mother fucking shit balls.”</p><p>“Hey,” he whispered, his voice soft and soothing, like honey. “Are you okay?”</p><p>A shake of your head and you were quick to bury your face in the cotton of his t-shirt. “I don’t know.” </p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” </p><p>Another whip of your head from side to side. “No, but,” you paused not sure how to approach this next awkward situation. “I do have to stop by my mother’s.” </p><p>“Come to my place afterward?” </p><p>“Actually, I have a huge favor to ask.” </p><p>There was a chuckle from above and you pulled yourself away from that familiar scent of his to look up. Those beautiful eyes of his were crinkled in amusement as he looked down at you, his lips pulling into a wide smile. “If you want me to go with you, you just have to ask.” </p><p>--- </p><p>The two of you went your separate ways after leaving campus. You told him that you wanted to go home and shower and put on something a little more family-friendly before joining him at his place. You went ahead and warned him to expect a lot of your family to be there, to expect there to be a lot of questions and be even more prepared for the best buttercream icing he could ever have. </p><p>The woman only turns sixty-one once. </p><p>Per usual in your household, the front door was unlocked as you led the way into the large open entryway. Nothing had changed since you had moved out, Mom always kept the door open when expecting company, despite your argument that it wasn’t the safest thing to do. Every light in the house was on, neighbors and family were scattered about the rooms and the little bar was filled to the brim with every ounce of alcohol the woman owned. </p><p>There was no denying this was a party.  </p><p>“Now I can see why Karlee wanted to come,” you heard Dean mutter from behind as you pushed farther into the house. “Hell, I’d want to come and I don’t even know your mother.” </p><p>“Give it two minutes.” </p><p>As if on queue, your mother appeared out of thin air with a large smile at the sight of you. “There you are baby girl,” she cooed as she pulled you in for a larger than life hug. You were positive if she squeezed you any harder, you were going to pop. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.” </p><p>Thankfully, you rolled your eyes out of your mother’s line of sight before she released you and took a step back. Her eyes roamed over you in that motherly way every parent does. “Mom, it’s your birthday, I wouldn’t miss it even if the world was ending.” </p><p>“Well,” her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth, “with everything going on, I wouldn’t have held it against you if you decided to stick this one out.” </p><p>You started to open your mouth with a retort when a low cough from behind you drew your mother’s attention elsewhere. From the way, her eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning, you knew that the Dean Winchester beauty was a sight to behold. </p><p>“Mom,” you tilted yourself to your left slightly, allowing Dean’s arm to snake in between the two of you in a gesture of introduction. “This is my friend, Dean.” </p><p>“Dean Winchester?” She asked you, her eyes widening and you knew she was making the connection. “As in the Professor you work for?” </p><p>Dean’s smirk grew as he grasped your mother’s outstretched hand. “The one and only.” </p><p>Her eyebrows shot to her hairline as her gaze shifted from Dean to you and back to Dean again. “Well, what a pleasant surprise to meet you.” </p><p>The rest of the evening went by in a flash. Dean felt comfortable in your mother’s house, offering to grab the two of you a drink and coming back with some rum and a knowing wink before getting sidetracked by one of your neighbors. You shouldn’t have been surprised that Dean would slowly become the life of the party the moment you walked in, but everyone’s attention seemed to be on him. </p><p>As the party was starting to dwindle down, candles had been blown out with a very enthusiastic round of ‘Happy Birthday’ and people were saying their goodbyes - you and Dean found yourself in the kitchen with your mother, where she was trying to insist that you didn’t need to help her clean. </p><p>“I’ll grab you another drink,” Dean chimed in as you swatted away your mother’s hand while you were gathering up some of the dishes to put in the sink. </p><p>She looked defeated, like a child being scolded for coloring on the wall, but she had back in her chair and waited for the man to return with her glass of white wine in hand. “So,” she settled in a bit more, a brief look of amusement flashing across her features, “have you ever been married, Dean?” </p><p> “Mom!”</p><p>She threw her hands up like she was innocent and offered you a half-shrug before tilting her glass towards you. “I may have had a little too much wine, but it’s my birthday,” she mused before turning her attention back towards Dean. </p><p>With a shake of his head, the man offered your mother a similar tilt of the head and a smirk before grabbing the dishes you were still clutching. “I don’t mind the question, uh, actually yes, I have.” </p><p>Now that was something you didn’t know. It was always assumed that Dean was a bachelor, living the single life and all that jazz. After all, he was the most sought after man in college, you only just assumed that he wasn’t the settling down type. “Really?” </p><p>His moss eyes met yours briefly before focusing on turning the sink on. The steady flow of water could have sounded like a waterfall as you found yourself waiting for the answer. “Don’t look so surprised,” he spoke, eyes cast downwards, “Right out of college, her name was Robin.” </p><p>“Was?” </p><p>There was a bit of silence that washed over the room now as you watched Dean shift slightly on his feet before reaching for the sponge that was seated in it’s little cozy just next to the sink. “She passed away just before our five-year wedding anniversary, drunk driving accident.” </p><p>His tone was flat, slightly clipped as he pushed the words out. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume that he hadn’t really talked about his late wife much. Despite knowing that your mother was sitting there, watching this man take charge of her household, you felt the need to reach out and touch Dean. You wanted to comfort him, remind him that he was in the present as his eyes appeared to be somewhere else entirely. </p><p>Stepping close to him, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind. His body was rigid to your touch, but he didn’t shrug you off as you pulled yourself close to him, giving a tight squeeze. “I’m so sorry.” </p><p>The room was quiet once more as Dean stood at the sink, you knew your mother was staring at the two of you intently. A minute must have passed before Dean cleared his throat and began soaking his sponge in the warm water, “It’s all good. It’s better to have loved and lost, right?” </p><p>Your mom’s crystal eyes moved to you as you stepped away from your guest, “Right.” </p><p>---- </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Nine;</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Chapter Nine</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>It hadn’t taken more than another hour for your mother to insist that she was good for the night and literally pushed the two of you out the door before turning off the porch light. You weren’t sure what you were more underprepared for, your mother actually shoving you out of the house or the silence that followed as you and Dean walked back to his car. </p><p><br/>“Thank you for coming,” you said slowly while unbuckling yourself into the passenger seat. “It meant, uh, it meant a lot that I didn’t have to be there alone.” </p><p>“It wasn’t a problem at all.” </p><p>Dean kept his eyes ahead, looking at the closed garage door before putting the car in reverse. You watched as he glanced over where you were sitting to look behind him before pulling out into the street and getting himself back in drive. The sky was dark, star speckling the sky faintly as street lamps flashed over the two of you in silence. You were itching to say something to him, anything really, but at the same time, you knew if you brought up his late wife - the night could just go downhill. </p><p>“I know you want to ask,” his voice was quiet as he pulled up to a stop sign, pausing for a moment before moving forward. “Might as well get it out before it eats you alive tonight.”</p><p>“Damn you.” </p><p>You caught a glimpse of a smirk before his face went blank again as he focused on the long road ahead. With a deep breath, you got your first question out there. “Do you miss her?” </p><p>“Every day.” </p><p>Ouch. You weren’t expecting that to sting a bit, considering the two of you were just fooling around right now. Swallowing the feeling, you nodded your head and turned your own eyes to the road. “Is that why you haven’t really been dating?” </p><p>He was quiet for a moment. “Not really, it was so long ago that I can honestly say that I’ve had my pick of women in the dating pool.” </p><p>“But?” </p><p>There was a sigh to your left causing you to glance over to where he was sitting. “But,” he nodded his head forward, “I see my brother and what he and Jessica have. And I’ve just decided that I don’t want anything if it isn’t the real deal.” </p><p>You couldn’t help but nod your head in complete agreement. Looking back on your relationship with Josh, you had thought that he was the one you were going to marry, the one you’d spend your forever with - which was why you had spent so much time on him. It still blew your mind that you didn’t see the warning signs that were all there, but you suppose it was your own blessing in disguise. </p><p>With a shake of your head at the boy who literally screwed you over, you decided to dare your next question. “What about… you know, sleeping around? Do you do that often?” </p><p>“No.” </p><p>Your eyebrows rose. “Then when was the last time you slept with someone?” </p><p>He was still for a moment while he focused on the right-hand turn he was making at the intersection. A clearing of his throat and making sure the wheels were straight once more before speaking. “Uh, my wife was the last person I’ve been with.” </p><p>Excitement and concern shot through you quickly. You were positive if you hadn’t been strapped into your seat, you would have sprung up and backed away. “You haven’t been with anyone since her!?” </p><p>That little smirk was back as your eyes grew too wide against the headlights of the oncoming car. “You would be the first woman I’ve been with since just before she passed.” </p><p>It was all new information. All very heavy, but new information. A million different questions were bolting through your mind. Was he just using you to get something out of his system? If not, why did he pick you? Why hadn’t he been with anyone else? And again, why was it you? </p><p>“Get it out,” he demanded with a slight chuckle. </p><p>You were honestly at a loss for words. “I don’t… I don’t really know what to ask.” </p><p>Your apartment came into view as he pulled into a nearby parking spot, turning off the car and leaving the two fo you in the glow from the building above. “You want to ask why it’s you. </p><p>“I guess, yeah, I want to know.” </p><p>He unbuckled himself now, turning himself slightly so that he could face you in the tight space of the car. “I wish I could give you a real answer, but the reality of it is - there is just something about you.” </p><p>“Like what?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” he shrugged while his eyes stayed glued to you. “You’re very down to earth, you have such a passion for school it even blows my mind and to be totally honest, the icing on the cake was when you sent me that picture.” </p><p>Your stomach clenched at the prior embarrassment you had felt. “I still can’t believe I did that.” </p><p>“Yeah, but,” his hand snaked out to grab your own, “if you hadn’t, I don’t think I would have had that push to tell you what I saw that night with your boyfriend. You could still be living your life thinking that everything was okay.” </p><p>He continued. “What was crazy was I got that picture literally as I was staring at what was happening in that corner. I remember thinking to myself that it all seemed little too over the top, a little too aggressive between the two of them. I just remember thinking they must not get a lot of alone time to be all over one another like that.” </p><p>A groan came out of you as you remembered hearing it all for the first time. You remembered the way that Josh didn’t even try and deny it, just tried to find out how you were able to put two and two together. It made you wonder just how long all of it had been going on. </p><p>“Want to hear something crazy?” You asked. </p><p>When he nodded, you continued. “The girl that he was with that night, she texted me earlier saying that you were at the bar and that maybe she should try her luck with you.” </p><p>“She’s not my type,” Dean said with a laugh now. “From the looks of it, she would be too easy.” </p><p>Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth now as you looked up at the large apartment building in front of where the two of you were parked. “Then what is your type?” </p><p>He was silent, again, for a couple of minutes where you could tell that he was really thinking about his answer. You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or something to be concerned about. “Someone who has ambition. She has to know what she wants in life and push to get it no matter what life throws at her, someone that can drink a whole bottle of rum and still get through the next day like a champ.” </p><p>Your laugh echoed through the car. “That wasn’t really the answer I was looking for, but I’ll take it.” </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>“Hell yeah,” you chuckled before looking outside once more. “Uh, you know there is one other thing.” </p><p>“What’s that?” </p><p>You grinned over at him now. “My car is still parked at your apartment.” </p><p>“Oh,” his own Cheshire like grinned crossed over his lips. “I’m well aware of that.” </p><p>“What do you mean?” </p><p>He unlocked the car now before leaning over and unlatching your own seatbelt. “I mean, I haven’t seen your place yet and I’d love to get a chance to see it.” </p><p>Something gripped at the pit of your stomach. Did you remember to put away that laundry and wash all the dishes before you left? Was the bathroom at least somewhat clean? What if he was allergic to dust? You couldn’t even remember the last time you get the little place a nice deep clean. </p><p>The concern must have been clear on your face as he laughed and shook his head. “Y/N, I don’t care how it looks.” </p><p>“I do,” you countered, scooting your way towards the door and throwing it open. “Can you just give me ten minutes?” </p><p>You didn’t wait for his answer. Slamming the door shut, you booked it up to your third-floor apartment and swung open the door. Quickly, you ran through and grabbed any discarded articles of clothing you had thrown about over the last week, you shoved as much dishware as you could in the dishwasher before turning it on, changed the trash, wiped down the bathroom sink and then quickly made the bed just as you got the text asking if he could come up. </p><p>Laughing, you replied, quickly adjusting your hair so that you didn’t look like you had just run around cleaning, even though he knew you did before opening the door. </p><p>“Welcome,” you said with a breath of rushing air. “It’s not as fancy as your place Professor, but it suits me well.”</p><p>Dean stepped in, seeming larger than life in the tight space while his eyes darted around to the various places. “If anything, your place seems a lot fancier than mine. I just have the essentials.” </p><p>He wasn’t lying. The man just had what he needed to get by. “Well, this is my home basically. I’ve always wanted it to feel that way.” </p><p>“Hm,” he nodded stepping closer to you now. “You can make any place feel like that.” </p><p>You weren’t sure how to take that sort of compliment, but something about it warmed your bones. Dean stepped even closer to you now, arms reaching out and snagging your hands to bring you towards him as he wrapped you in those large arms of his. “So,” you mumbled against his chest as he held you there, “Want me to show you where the bedroom is?” </p><p>“That or I was going to just have my way with you on the couch.” </p><p>He was quick to scoop you up, telling you just to tell him where to go before he had you on the bed and his hands between that dress you had decided to wear. He wasted no time shimmying you out of those panties, muttering that you shouldn’t have even bothered before his index finger slid its way in. The man was nothing but hands and filthy words before he had you completely naked with him following closely behind. </p><p>The two of you worked each other up until you were ready to collapse out of pleasurable exhaustion. Normally, the two of you would head your separate ways and make plans for the following day, but this time, Dean held you close to him, wrapped in your sheets, a soft kiss on your shoulder before you felt his arm go slack against your waist. </p><p>This felt like home to you. </p><p>Dare you to say it, Dean Winchester felt more like a home than anyone you could have ever imagined. </p><p>“Fuck.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Ten;</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Chapter Ten</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>You had awoken to your bed warm, but empty. </p><p>Sighing, you knew you shouldn’t have been surprised to find yourself alone, but at the same time, it kind of hurt. You knew that the night before was probably too much for Dean, having to rehash a lot of things that he no longer had with his late wife. You knew full well you’d have to call your mom up and give her hell for being ballsy enough to ask that kind of question - to a man you weren’t even dating! </p><p>With a long stretch, you raised your arms above your head and let out a loud groan of pleasure as the kinks in your spine clicked back into place. You sprawled out across your mattress for a moment before it hit you - that smell that was your go-to first thing in the morning, the dark caffeinated liquid that helped you grade so many papers and push through those early morning classes. </p><p>Carefully, you slid out from your sheets, grabbing your bathrobe that always hung on the back of your door and quietly moving towards your small kitchen where you heard the faint sound of music playing. Peeking around the corner, you seemed to have stumbled upon a shirtless Dean Winchester, bobbing his head along to whatever song was coming out of the speaker of his phone while standing at your stove. </p><p>It was a sight to be seen for many reasons.  </p><p>One of them being, you never got tired of seeing that man practically naked over the last couple of weeks. You were convinced that when God made him, he spent a little extra time on the small details. Like the way, his hips dipped and curved in his back or the way his shoulders seemed to be perfectly broad enough to hold up your legs in that way that sent you spiraling every single time. The man was built, but in all the time you had been spending with him, you never once heard him mention working out - you low key hated that he could look the way that he did without even trying. </p><p>He shifted on his feet now, head dipping a bit lower, still completely unaware to you hiding in the shadows of the hallway to watch him. “Slooooow ride,” he sang softly to himself, “Take it eaassy.” </p><p>The giggled that came out was unavoidable and naturally, Dean’s head whipped up to find you smirking in his direction. His look of terror melted quickly into relief as that beautiful Winchester smile graced his lips. “Good morning gorgeous,” he rushed out as his chest took a deep breath. “I didn’t hear you get up.” </p><p>You took a step into the kitchen now, eyeing what he was working on. “I didn’t think you were still here.” </p><p>His smile faltered, but only for a moment as he met you where you stood. “I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” </p><p>As if someone had sucked the air out of the room, you found your chest clenching at his words. Eyes wide, you looked up at him now, ignoring how your mind was screaming at you for some coffee and choosing to focus on who was in front of you. “Really?” </p><p>Your words came out whispered and soft, causing Dean’s to eyes to melt towards you. “Really.” Those green gems of his left your face to glance around the slight chaos of the room before coming back to where you were watching him even closer. “I hope that’s okay.” </p><p>Nodding your head vigorously, you couldn’t get words to come out of your tight throat, so you resorted to reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to your face. Your eyes stayed glued to him as he looked down at you with what you were sure was some form of concern before you used your toes to push your lips into his tenderly. </p><p>When you broke away, you moved your face away from him, tucking it into his shoulder while keeping your arms around him. “It’s perfect.” </p><p>He didn’t move, just wrapped you up in him for a second before you felt his lips on the top of your head. “What’s wrong?” </p><p>“Nothing.” </p><p>“Y/N…” </p><p>You took a deep breath and shifted yourself so that you could look up at him carefully. “I’ve never had someone make me breakfast before.” </p><p>He searched your face again for a moment before that smile from earlier broke out. “So I’m just full of firsts for you, huh?” </p><p>“Apparently,” you grinned up at him, feeling that tightness loosen up a bit as you removed yourself from his grasp and eyeing the full coffee pot tucked away in the corner. “So what are we having?” </p><p>--- </p><p>Dean had made everything he could think of with what you had in the kitchen. While you had always thought of yourself as someone who could cook, you learned that Dean was something else entirely. Pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs so soft and fluffy, you were convinced they were a gift from heaven as it was. And whatever the hell he had done to the coffee had you going back for your third cup while the two of you made use of the small table you kept tucked away in your kitchen. </p><p>You couldn’t even remember the last time you had actually eaten a meal at the table, let alone with someone else. </p><p>For the first time in a couple of days, you felt relaxed. Not that you couldn’t relax when Dean was working his magic, something that he insisted on doing every single chance the two of you got to be alone most of these days, but it was hard to shake the stress of graduate school among the usual adult worries without having a little bit of help from him. He had been more than open to tell you to call him whenever you needed it and there had been one occasion where you couldn’t sleep for the life of you and he was quick to tell you to come over.</p><p>Never had you slept as well as you had that night. Although you were confident all the exercise of your bodies was very helpful. </p><p>“Thanks for breakfast,” you grinned at him from where you were sitting as he filled up your coffee mug once more. “Best first breakfast ever.” </p><p>He smirked at you as he topped off his own mug. “It certainly beats the stuff the food hall tries to pass as some breakfast food.” </p><p>You snorted. “You would think with the amount of money some of the students pay, they’d get some better cooks.” </p><p>“Yeah, well, that’s a whole other beast I try not to poke with the school.” </p><p>Musing at his statement, it made you think about how much Professor Dean really cared for his students. From the start, he was very passionate about his work, but he was more passionate about making sure the various pupils that sat in the desks of his classroom would actually learn something. Even if they were just taking the class for the credit, he made sure that no one flunked out. So hearing him say that the food was a whole different beast, that made you think that it was a topic he had brought up to the school board. </p><p>You watched as his lean frame headed back into the small kitchen, where you were sure that he was putting the empty pot in the sink, before heading back to where you were slowly sipping from your mug. You continued to watch as he offered you another small smile and settled back into his chair, the tablet he always kept in his car flicking on at his touch before his gaze turned intent to whatever was before him. </p><p>Something blossomed in your chest at the sight. </p><p>Something that was nagging at you. </p><p>His eyebrows creased as he leaned forward now. “Huh,” his lips pursed as those jade eyes of his skimmed across the screen before him. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>Those eyes flicked to you for a moment before returning to the tablet. “I, uh, I just got an email.” </p><p>There was a tone in his voice that made your stomach sink slightly. “Oh yeah?” Putting your coffee down, you leaned into his direction. “What about?” </p><p>“It’s from the Dean.” </p><p>Despite the amazingly delicious breakfast, the two of you had just demolished, you suddenly felt the urge to vomit all over the dining room table. “Don’t you get emails from the Dean all the time?” </p><p>“Yeah,” he said with a slow nod as his eyes stayed glued to the words before him. “He’s asking to meet with me first thing on Monday.”</p><p>You had to swallow hard to make sure you could get out the next question. “Did… did he say why he needs to meet with you?” </p><p>A shake of his head and it was hard to miss the way that fear seemed to be gripping at his features. “I think I might have an idea though.” </p><p>“Us?” </p><p>Air seemed to have been sucked right out the room as the two of you sat at your tiny little table, eyes boring into one another, while a million different thoughts began running through your mind. “It might just have something to do with the department.” </p><p>“But -”</p><p>“Hey,” Dean whispered softly before leaning forward, his mouth finding yours with ease. His kiss was deep and meaningful and, to be honest, a brilliant way to get your to shut the hell up. When his distraction pulled away, he made sure that you were looking up at him. “There is no use in stressing about this right now.”</p><p>“I know, Dean, but this -” </p><p>“No.” </p><p>Your mouth clamped shut as his head reached forward and brushed away some of your bedhead that you had yet to tame. “This is my problem, Y/N, whatever happens on Monday, it deals with me,” his thumb continued to stroke along your cheek, “We have today and tomorrow ahead of us.” </p><p>As you felt yourself getting ready to argue, wanting to point out that the two of you should at least pick apart the various things that could go down, Dean shut you up once more with those damn lips of his. “I only want you,” he muttered into your mouth. “Two days.” </p><p>“Two days,” you whispered back as you allowed him to stand you up. “I’m all yours.” </p><p>---</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Eleven;</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Chapter Eleven</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>Monday came in another wave of pleasure. </p><p>Dean had woken you up early, his hand slipping between your legs while you were only faintly aware that he was touching you. It wasn’t until that familiar build up settled in the pit of your stomach were you able to turn yourself over and have his mouth capture your plea for release with his lips. He shifted his body, covered you quickly, allowing his cock to slip in easily for another round. </p><p>He made you cum three more times before you insisted that it was time to shower. Even in there, he had his way with you, his lips and his hands touching every inch of your slippery skin as you attempted to get yourself somewhat clean. Once more, he made you feel dirtier than you thought was possible in the shower. </p><p>The two of you drove back to his place, allowing you to hop in your car and arrive on campus in different vehicles. You didn’t have class until Professor Winchester’s class, but you knew that you’d be driving yourself crazy if you went back to your place. Despite the fact that Dean had told you time and time again not to stress yourself out, he still set out your favorite chamomile tea as the two of you made your way out. </p><p>With said tea in hand, you made your way into the university’s cafe, telling yourself that you could use this time to catch up on some studying or get a jump start on some of those papers that Dean was still slowly working through. Not that you were really helping by keeping him more than distracted on the weekends. </p><p>An empty booth opened, and you made a beeline for it, tucking yourself into the corner closest to the wall and pulling out your various folders and books before searching for your favorite red pen. Naturally, the damned thing was going to be at the very bottom of the bag. </p><p>“Hey,” a quiet voice came from across the table. “Is this seat open?” </p><p>Half-heartedly, you looked up from your search to see Karlee standing there with her hands shoved into the pockets of her favorite hoodie. It was the kind of hoodie she used to swear made her bad days a little bit better, saying it had some sort of magical powers over her. For her to be wearing it while standing in front of you, well, you knew it was her way of trying. </p><p>“You know I don’t want to talk to you,” you stated before turning your focus back to the abyss of your bag. “Not after the stunt you pulled. Especially with Professor Winchester.” </p><p>“That’s, uh, well, that’s actually why I wanted to talk.” </p><p>You had to fight the eye roll that was bound to be incoming. “I’m not writing you a damned recommendation letter.” </p><p>“No. Nothing like that,” despite telling her you wanted nothing to do with her, your ex-best friend slid herself into the opposite side of the booth. “But it is about Professor Winchester.” </p><p>Your hand froze as you pulled out what you had been looking for, but you hoped she hadn’t noticed the way the color drained from your face. Giving yourself a second, you pulled yourself together and gingerly placed your hands on the table before the two of you. “I don’t think I understand how something outside of classwork with the man involves me.” </p><p>“Josh knows.” </p><p>Even with your stomach sinking, you played dumb. “Knows about what?” </p><p>Her eyebrows cinched. “Really? That was the least convincing way of playing coy.” </p><p>Staying silent, you eyed her as you waited for her to answer. With a sigh, she did just that, “Josh knows about you and Professor Winchester. He’s been tailing you since you blew him off all those weeks ago.” </p><p>That dread that had been swirling around in the pit of your stomach was now making its way upward. Swallowing hard, you continued to try your best to play dumb, despite knowing that it was a more moot point that you had hoped. Still, you had to try. “I still don’t know what you are talking about.” </p><p>“Seriously Y/N,” you could tell that she was trying her hardest not to roll her eyes in your face. A sign you knew that she still respected you somewhat. “Stop. Josh tailed you that same day, waited for you outside of class until he saw you and Professor Winchester talking all close and what not - saw you go to the motel and did not come back out for hours.” </p><p>“That doesn’t mean anything.” </p><p>Her lips tilted down. “He has pictures.” </p><p>Now you really felt like you were going to vomit. “How… how do you know this?” </p><p>“He came to me, livid, and demanded that I help him take Professor Winchester down, saying that he always knew something was going on. He tried to say that this was just as much my problem as it was his and, well, to be honest, it really sounded like he was just trying to get back at you.” </p><p>Your eyebrow twitched. “What exactly is there to ‘get back at me’ for?”</p><p>“Well… you know.”</p><p>Eyeing your former friend, you slowly shook your head, a manic fit of giggles fluttering around in the back of your throat as you tried to find a way to express your words. “No, I don’t. So please, enlighten me on what I should know about the man that cheated on me with,” you paused, “oh, right, you.” </p><p>The two of you stared at each other from across the table, your grip tight around your faithful red pen as you waited calmly for her answer. You didn’t blink, you were pretty sure you weren’t breathing either, but you continued to wait. It was clear that you could end this conversation, get up, and pretend that she was just fucking with you, but you knew there was some truth here. </p><p>So you continued to wait while trying to remember to breathe through your nervous seething. </p><p>“Y/N,” her face softened, but her eyes stayed glued to you. “I know I’ve been a really shitty friend.” </p><p>You snorted and looked away now, trying to fight that fit of inappropriate giggles from earlier. “Biggest understatement of the century.” </p><p>When you looked back over at her, stifling your grin, her eyes narrowed into slits. “I won’t argue with you on that. I made my bed and I’m going to lie in it.” She took a heavy breath and glanced down at her hands, which were now folded on the table before her. “I would love to be able to say that I am truly and utterly sorry, it was really just a drunken mistake, but it still doesn’t excuse what I did.” </p><p>Slowly, she pulled her gaze away from her cuticles to where you were waiting. “Just know, I am sorry.” </p><p>The smartass comment you wanted to make back, especially regarding the move she pulled not too long ago about wanting your TA position if things went south, it stuck in the back of your throat. Call you crazy, maybe overwhelmed by the day ahead, and whatever outcome was to happen, but you wholeheartedly believed that she felt like the scum of the earth. If you were to guess, you were sure that Josh had already proven to your former best friend that he really was a piece of shit. </p><p>“I believe you,” you stated softly. “I even forgive you.” </p><p>“Really?” </p><p>Your throat tightened as her eyes glossed over with a wave of emotion. “Really,” you nodded carefully now. “But things can’t go back to how they were. Maybe one day, but not today, not with everything going on. I… I appreciate you coming to me with this information.”</p><p>Karlee stared at you for a moment longer before she slowly stood from the spot she had claimed. “I know I would want you to do the same.” </p><p>“Thanks.” </p><p>Her head tilted to the right as she eyed someone coming through the doors behind you. “Good luck.” </p><p>While it seemed like you could somewhat make peace with Karlee, not entirely, but enough that somewhere down the line you could possibly pursue a friendly friendship with her - it didn’t help the knot in the pit of your stomach. Or that you hadn’t heard a peep from Dean since you wished him good luck at his car this morning. </p><p>It wasn’t looking good. </p><hr/><p>Dean stared at the older man sitting across from him, his eyebrows cinched and tight as he slid over two glossy pieces of paper. “Care to explain what this is, Professor?” </p><p>He didn’t need to look at what was in front of him to know that his worst fear had been confirmed. To humor the old man, he stole a quick glance at the desk, seeing the backside of his favorite teaching assistant with his arm around her waist while he was pulling her in close. Their mouths were on one another, the hunger for each other was raw even in the picture from weeks ago. </p><p>“That would be me and Miss Y/L/N.” </p><p>His boss looked astounded at the fact that he hadn’t even tried to deny that it was him. Sure, anyone else would have tried to skirt around the nitty-gritty, but what was the point? Give the man more ammo to use against him at a board meeting? </p><p>“So,” his lips pursed like he wasn’t all too positive what to say next before he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk in fake interest. “You started a relationship with your teaching assistant?” </p><p>“Yes sir.” </p><p>Those dull-looking eyes grew wider. “Why on earth would you do that?” </p><p>That was a question he had been asking himself every morning that he woke up with her that weekend. Especially when he found her legs wrapped up in the sheets and her fingers absently tangled in his hair while he focused on her soft exhales of sleep. From the day she stumbled into his class, apologizing for being almost ten minutes late, he felt drawn to her. He knew the effect he had on many of the female students, but she treated him like her boss; professional and nothing more. </p><p>Until that text came in. </p><p>It awoke something inside of him he hadn’t felt in years.  </p><p>Not quite sure if he could give an honest to god answer at the moment, so he went with a half-hearted shrug. “I’m not sure, sir.” </p><p>The answer didn’t seem to sit right with the boss man cause he let out an exasperated sigh and leaned back in his overly plush chair. “Listen, Winchester,” he started, “I’m going to be blunt with you. You are one of the driving forces that keep new students coming to this school, we can’t afford to lose you over something as irresponsible as an easy lay.”</p><p>Dean’s cheeks heated. “Sir-” </p><p>“Hold on,” Arthur interrupted with his hand up, causing Dean to remember his place. “I know about everything that happened with Robin, and trust me I want nothing more than to see you happy again, but this breaks so many rules I don’t even know where to start.” </p><p>“What are you saying?” He asked, eager to get to the point and move on with whatever the punishment was to be. “Stop pussyfooting around.” </p><p>It wasn’t missed by the older Winchester, the way Arthur’s lips tipped up in a shy smirk at his comment before flattening out with his serious tone. “My hands are tied,” his stomach sank, knowing fully well what was about to come. “It’s either you or her.” </p><hr/><p>The lights were already on when he arrived at an empty classroom and his stomach sank as he realized that it meant that Y/N had hunted down the janitor just like last time. It also meant that she was waiting for him on the other side of the door, probably pacing back and forth like she always did when she was too nervous to sit. </p><p>He had made up his mind the moment Arthur gave him the ultimatum, but he wasn’t sure why or how he was going to tell her. He already knew that she could argue with him, demand that he go back and change his mind, but there was no way in hell that he would. Not even if his hands were tied behind his back. </p><p>Reaching the top of the stairs, just as he expected, she was in the middle of one of her strides when she caught sight of him. His expression must have said it all because her face paled even more than it already was. “He knows, doesn’t he?” </p><p>Dean gave her a curt nod before descending his way towards his desk. “He does.” </p><p>“Karlee told me,” she blurted suddenly, following behind him closely. “She told me that Josh approached her and that he was going to the Dean with pictures.” </p><p>“I saw them.” </p><p>With his back still to her, he didn’t miss how she took a deep inhale. “Holy shitballs,” he placed his laptop bag on the desk before slowly turning towards her. “We are so fucked, aren’t we?” </p><p>“No.” </p><p>She had been wringing her hands in front of him, focusing on the twisting and turning of her palms against each other before pausing and looking up at him. “Excuse me?” </p><p>“I’ve taken care of it,” he nodded, keeping his distance from where she stood. “There is no need to worry.” </p><p>Just as she was about to open her mouth, he knew with another question demanding an answer, he heard the familiar footsteps of Melissa heading their way. For once in his life, he was thankful for her early arrival because he knew that it would keep Y/N at a safe distance until the class was over. </p><p>He needed to keep his head on straight in the meantime. </p><p>His TA retreated back to her claimed desk, but he felt her eyes glued to him as he watched several other students all trail in one by one. With each step resounding in the background, he felt his decision was even more justified. Once everyone was seated, Dean cleared his throat and looked around at all his students and their eagerness to hear what he was going to teach today. </p><p>“Looks like I have everyone here today,” he said with a tight nod. “I have an important announcement to make…”</p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Twelve;</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Chapter Twelve</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>“So you just left?” </p><p>The glass in his hand was cool and hard in his grasp. Giving a slow nod, he brought his scotch to his lips, taking a lingering sip before turning his attention back to where Sam was staring at him with utter disbelief written across his face. “I had to.” </p><p>“But,” his younger brother ran a hand through his long locks, “you love your job.” </p><p>“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, not sure what to say. “Apparently not that much.” </p><p>Sam’s eyes darted along his face, the concern slowly melting away as he stared long and hard at his older brother. “That’s not the Dean I know,” he stared carefully, reaching in front of him for the bottle of scotch to give a refill. “The Dean I know never backs down, reminds the world that he worked tooth and nail for his spot at the university. Especially,” he leaned a little closer so the man at the far end of the bar didn’t have a chance to hear him, “after all the shit we’ve seen out there.” </p><p>There was a snort from Dean before he brought his refilled glass back to his lips in thought. Sam seemed to silently understand that his brother didn’t want to talk about it yet and made himself busy with the other bar patron. The Winchester’s had seen some shit when their mom died. It was exactly what got him so good at his position of a mythology teacher simply because they had lived it. As children, for that matter. </p><p>The older Winchester had never seen himself giving up the life until he saw Sam fall in love. He saw how Jessica brought him lunch in the middle of the day, concerned he didn’t have a chance to eat, he saw the way the two of them lit up a room just by making eye contact from afar or the fact that the bar could be crowded and they only had eyes for each other. It made Dean jealous, angry sometimes to think he put making their father proud before making himself happy - something that little Sammy never put up with. </p><p>Dean continued to push on for a bit, helping John when he could, but he eventually saw himself getting tired. When he got the news of his father’s passing, Dean just knew it was time to hang up the leather jacket and work towards something more tangible and reliable. </p><p>“What the fuck, Winchester?” A harsh whisper came from behind him. “You don’t even say two words to me at the end of class before just up and leaving?” </p><p>He didn’t need to turn around to know that it was her. He felt her the moment she stepped through the door of the bar. “I’m sorry.” </p><p>She stepped closer, the friction and anger radiating off of her in waves as she wedged herself in between the stool and the counter, but she didn’t take a seat. Dean stole a glance at her, seeing the way her gaze was brewing something dangerous as he carefully took a sip of his aged scotch. “Sorry?” She spat, her face pinched as she continued to glare at him. “All you can say is that you are sorry?” </p><p>Finally, he turned, giving her his full attention. That was what she wanted, right? “Y/N,” he sighed, the scotch making its way into his system as his heart picked up at the sight of her. “I had no other choice.” </p><p>“You always have a choice!” She harshly whispered at him, clearly trying to keep her fury at a minimum to avoid any more outside attention - aside from the curious glances coming from his older brother. “You can’t just throw away your career because of me.” </p><p>“I’m not.” </p><p>“Like hell you are,” her effort is trying to keep quiet was failing miserably. “I’m nothing more than a teacher’s assistant. One that you made the mistake of sleeping with because of her own dumbass mistake.” </p><p>Her words were rushed and blurred together unless the scotch was really hitting him a lot harder than he was prepared. She seemed to try way too hard to make sense of his decision to leave the only job he had for the last ten years. “You’re not a mistake.” </p><p>Lips were parted, a telling sign that she had a lot more to say, but she quickly closed them at his admission. Never in a million years would Dean consider what they had a mistake. Her silence gave him a moment to get more of his own words in, “I wanted you long before I even had you,” he admitted. “You just opened that door sooner than I was prepared for.” </p><p>Eyes searching him, he knew she wouldn’t find a trace of uncertainty written across his face. Even in the tight space, Y/N stepped away from him, her own defeat on her shoulders. “Dean... I can’t let you do this.” </p><p>“It’s already been done.” </p><p>“Then un-do it.” </p><p>He shook his head, trying to fight the urge to smirk at her concern. “I don’t want to.” </p><p>“Dean…”</p><p>“Y/N, you don’t understand,” he sighed, abandoning his now empty glass with a pleading look towards his brother for a hearty refill. “I loved my job, it was exactly what I needed in that season of life, but now, well now, it’s not even close what I want to do.” </p><p>“Then what do you plan on doing now, Professor Winchester?”</p><p>He visibly winced at the formality of his former title. “I’m not sure. Yet.” </p><p>Dean went to reach out for her, touch her and comfort her in his decision, but the moment his hand slipped towards her, she shrugged him off. His hand fell before her as she shook her head at him. “I… I can’t let you throw your life away just because of me.” </p><p>“Y/N,” he started, but she was quick to put up a hand in a point to tell him she had more to say. </p><p>“You were exactly the eye opener I needed when I was too blind to see what was happening right in front of me, you were there for me in ways I didn’t know I was deprived, you went with me to my mother’s birthday party,” she sighed, eyes cast downward. “But I cannot just let you do something like this.” </p><p>“Seriously, Y/N…”</p><p>“I can’t let you do something like this because of me.”</p><p>He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that this was something he wanted to do for a while, but once more she cut him off.</p><p>“No,” she looked up, her concerned look from earlier hardened and cold as she took another step back, her back pushing into the stool she was wedged between. “I think, I think this is the last time we should see each other.” </p><p>She didn’t give him a moment to argue, just stole a glance at his newly refilled glass, gave Sam, who had emerged, a curt nod and turned on her heel. Dean watched as she shoved open the heavy door, never looking back before he heard the familiar sound of her car engine turning over. </p><p>He didn’t have to look over to know that his brother was idly standing nearby, watching the same scene as her car pulled out of the lot. “Uh, you seemed to have left out an important part of the story dear brother.” </p><p>Dean couldn’t even bring himself to answer as he continued to stare ahead at the door she had just gone through. Part of him was ready to hop in the car and run after her, follow her back to her apartment, but the more reasonable part of him knew that she had every damn right to be upset. </p><p>He had fucked it up. </p><p>“Should I bring the bottle?” </p><p>“Yep.” </p><p>Sam gave his older brother a sad smirk before plopping the liquid gold down in front of him. “Want to talk about it?”</p><p>He eyed the amber liquid, noting where the top of it sloshed before pointing a good two inches down from that. “Come back when I’m about,” he squinted, “right here.” </p><p>There was a snort, but Sam backed off, allowing his brother to wallow for a bit, but keeping an eye on him as he drowned his pain away in the good stuff. As the hour ticked by, he continued to keep an eye out. Even though he was the younger of the two, he was a little more aware of unhealthy habits beginning to form. For a moment, he remembered their father in a similar position, avoiding the feelings of the world and turning cold as the love of his life had left him - well, them, forever. </p><p>It hit him like a smack in the face. </p><p>“Dean,” he strutted over, snagging back the bottle as Dean finished pouring himself another glass. The look of displeasure was shot towards him, but he didn’t even bat an eye as he swallowed the thing in one easy gulp. “Listen, I know you are pretty drunk, but this isn’t like you.” </p><p>“Sure it is,” he slurred, rolling the cool glass in his hands. </p><p>Sam set the bottle down behind the bar, in a place that he knew his brother found have to put real effort in to get to. “No, Dean, even when Robin passed away, you threw yourself in your work, but not the bottle.” </p><p>Green eyes stared back at him as he waited for his brother to continue. Sam eyed the other side of the bar, catching the moment his wife walked in before giving her a little shake of the head, silently letting her know that she would need to take over for a bit. “What do you feel when you think of being with Y/N?” </p><p>A slow smile curved along his lips before it suddenly fell. “Warm and fuzzy. Like a blanket fresh from the dryer or a cup of hot coco on a snow day.” </p><p>He had to resist the urge to laugh at the statement that was so far unlike his older brother, but it just further nailed his thoughts to home. “I feel the exact same way when Jess walks into a room. I’ve felt that way from the moment I met her.” </p><p>“Yeah, but you and Jess,” he waved his hands in her general direction as he jutted his chin out, “that’s something else.” </p><p>“And what you feel for Y/N isn’t?” </p><p>The glass that had been steadily rolling back and forth between his hands suddenly came to a halt as Sam’s words sank in. Dean thought back to the very first day that she started in his class, the instant pull he felt towards her, but the urge to ignore it for various reasons was all too prominent. He remembered the way his thoughts lingered toward her when he got that itch that he just had to scratch on late nights, or how his whole body tingled at receiving her photo that was completely not meant for him. </p><p>He remembered the first time she kissed him, the way he felt the world and his worries melt away. The way she hesitated when he asked if she was sure she really wanted to do what they were about to do and how he silently prayed for her to say yes. He remembered how natural it felt to be with her and her mother, not even batting an eye at helping be part of the clean-up crew for a birthday party he wasn’t even invited to.</p><p>He chose her over a job close to offering him tenure. He chose her over just about everything in these last couple of weeks, including a blind date that Bobby was trying to set him up with. </p><p>“Fuck,” he muttered, letting the glass clamor down on the counter, rolling to the edge just before Sam could catch it. “How am I that fucking stupid?” </p><p>Sam patted his brother’s shoulder gently with a knowing sigh. “It’s okay, man,” he gave him a light squeeze. “You can still tell her.” </p><p>“How? You saw her.”</p><p>His younger brother stole a glance over at Jess, another knowing look shared between them before he reached a hand into his pocket and fishing out the keys to his truck that was parked in the back. “First, we are going to get you some coffee and then you are going to give me her address.” </p><p>Dean didn’t fight, didn’t even argue that it wasn’t what she would want. He just nodded his head, sliding out of the wooden stool he had been perched on for the better part of three hours before slipping on his jacket and trailing out behind his baby brother.</p><p>His heart pounded in his chest as he stared ahead, realizing that he was about to put it all on the line. Every last thing, even if she didn’t want to know, he needed her to hear it. </p><p>“Fuck,” he whispered. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Epilogue;</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Epilogue </strong>
  </span>
</p><p>You needed to wake up from this nightmare. </p><p>The one that had been playing on repeat for what felt like weeks in the depths of your mind, but you were sure that it had only been a couple of hours. In your dream, Dean tried to tell you what he wanted to say, but you just kept cutting him off repeatedly until you couldn’t take the sound of his pleas before turning away from him. Every time you tried to get yourself to turn back around, everything went murky. </p><p>It was like your mind was telling you that you could not handle this kind of heartbreak. </p><p>“Please,” a soft whisper snaked through your dream as you felt yourself struggle to open your eyes. “Please, please, please.” </p><p>The tenderness of the voice had you struggling, trying to reach out toward it. You wanted nothing more than to comfort the voice, remind it that everything was going to be okay. You willed the idea that everything was really going to be okay. </p><p>But everything hurt. Why did you feel like you had been hit by a bus?</p><p>“Y/N?” That whisper came back. “Can you hear me?” </p><p>As if you had to peel your eyelids back with a spoon, you were finally able to wake up. Except, you found yourself in an overly intense room with glaring lights blazing down upon you and an alarm that wouldn’t shut the hell up. Despite the sudden tickle in the back of your throat, you scratched out an honest question, “What the fuck?”  </p><p>A chuckle from the left of you had you turning your head, only to be met with a sharp pain in the back of your skull. “Whoa,” the voice matched the one that had floated around in your horrible dream. “Take it easy there, beautiful.” </p><p>“Dean?”</p><p>A shadow cast over you, thankfully blocking out the horrible light, while you were met with soft green eyes. The relief that washed over you was immense, bringing tears to the corner of your eyes. “I’m here.” </p><p>Your body felt heavy as you tried to move your hand out to touch him, make sure he was really there, but you were once more met with a sharp pain running down your body. “Where… where are we?” </p><p>A smile graced his beautiful lips, but you didn’t see where it met his eyes. “The hospital.” </p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>The fogginess weighed heavily on your brain while you closed your eyes, trying to - no, willing yourself to remember why you were anywhere else, but home. The pain of your ordeal had you wanting your favorite fluffy blanket, a huge bottle of wine, and an excuse to never leave your apartment for at least a month. </p><p>Dean must have sensed your limbo because he gave your hand a squeeze before letting go. “You were in a car accident.” </p><p>“I was?” </p><p>Eyes still squeezed tight, you heard the air leave his lungs in a heavy sigh. “Yeah,” his throat cleared. “About a mile away from your apartment. It… Uhm, it looks like a drunk driver.” </p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>Another rush of air seemed to leave him as you laid still, letting the information settle in the depths of your mind. “Did I really break things off with you?” </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>The stiffness in his voice was tangible. “Oh,” was all you could croak out. </p><p>Carefully, you glanced back over to where Dean was hovering cautiously. Those eyes of his darted from where you lay, to the door, to the wall next to you before finally settling down on you again. “I - There, uh,” his shoulders deflated. “I want to talk to you about something.”</p><p>“Even though I stomped all over our relationship?”</p><p>A ghost of a smirk crossed his face as he took yet another deep breath. “No, that would be me,” he admitted before glancing behind him and snagging the chair that had been looking a little loved in and pulling it closer to your bedside. The IV in your arm swayed as he scooted in closer, elbows resting on the firm mattress. “I made a decision without consulting you first. That’s not something you do in a relationship.” </p><p>He was right, but you weren’t going to agree. It didn’t seem like that was going to help bygones. “I didn’t have to leave.” </p><p>“You had every right to,” he stated with a curt nod. “I should have gone after you, even if it was just to the parking lot. Instead, I was the one that let you leave.” His words broke at the end as he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, you noted that they were glossy. “Sam was the one that talked some sense into me, but at that point, I was already half a bottle deep and in no place to drive - it just so happened we stumbled into the aftermath of your accident as the ambulance took you away.” </p><p>Once more, your mind was blank at the supposed memory of the accident. The last thing you remembered was crying so hard the lines on the road got a little blurry, but thankfully you pulled into an intersection with a stop sign. Everything after that was a vacant thought you could not grasp. “You… you saw me?” </p><p>The glassiness of his eyes deepened as you so the tears build up in the corners. “Y/N, it damn near broke me.” </p><p>“I’m sorry.” </p><p>He shook his head violently. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I am just thankful that you are alive.” </p><p>You offered him a small smile, your lips tugging tightly as you matched his sentiment about being alive before he reached out and touched your hand. “I don’t think I could handle losing another woman that I love in a tragic accident due to poor decisions.” </p><p>Humming, you nodded your head carefully, whatever pain medication you were on was doing a damn good job at making you feel like you were floating on a cloud. “Ha,” you mused, “You love me.” </p><p>When you glanced back over to where Dean’s gaze was burning a hole into the side of your head, his eyes were wide and his lips were parted. Even though it hurt, you raised an eyebrow at the Professor. “For someone who just made a joke, you don’t look like you are very… uh, proud of yourself?” </p><p>His mouth stayed parted as he looked over your face, darting from your mouth to your eyes. “Y/N,” he gulped, carefully placing a hand on either side of your face until you properly got your sights on him. “How do you feel right now?” </p><p>A giggle escaped you at the seriousness of his tone. “Is there a way a person can feel like a cotton ball? Scratchy and fuzzy at the same time?” </p><p>That hint of a smirk was back as he nodded his head and released your face. “Then I think this conversation can wait until you’re feeling a little better.” </p><p>You weren’t even sure what kind of conversation he wanted to have. He was there, next to you, staring at you a little too heavily and you were alive and so happy to see his face. The man was beautiful and rugged and sometimes way too complicated for you to understand. But he was there for you, even in times when you were unaware - he was there for you, looking out for your best interest in life. </p><p>“Okay,” you whispered, eyes growing heavy with each breath. “I’ll see you in a little bit Dean,” you felt your chest rise with a heavy inhale. “I love you.” </p><p>----</p><p>Dean stared at her as she slept. He was constantly checking to make sure she was actually breathing and that no crazy alarms were going off in the background to worry him. The beeping of the machines hooked up to her had his nerves stayed on end. The man was living on two hours of sleep and a hell of a lot of coffee. </p><p>That had been his life for the last two days. </p><p>For two days he sat at her side, praying to whoever was willing to listen that she could get out of this. The doctors had warned him they had stopped any internal bleeding, they could dod an MRI and even rule out anything major for the time being, but they stressed that she was not in the clear until she was able to wake up and stay awake for more than a couple minutes at a time. Dean was ready, he was ready to lay everything out on the table with her and he was so damn ready to take her home. </p><p>“Mister Winchester?” </p><p>One of the doctors from earlier seemed to have snuck in while he was intently lost in his thoughts about how much he hated being in a hospital. “Afternoon Doctor,” he replied with a nod, turning his head to meet his gaze. “Anything to update?” </p><p>There was a nod from the man in the white coat, followed by a glance down at the heavy metal clipboard in his hand. “I’m told that she woke up, and you were able to carry a conversation with her?”</p><p>“That’s right.” </p><p>“And she remembered who you were?” </p><p>His heart clenched as he recalled the soft whisper of her voice. “She spoke my name and could even recall the events that led up to her accident.” </p><p>Another nod from the man, “The good news is all of her tests came back normal, but we would like to keep your wife for one additional night to monitor the baby.” </p><p>“I’m sorry?” </p><p>The man glanced up from the notes he was still scanning over. “The baby…” his voice trailed as the look of shock must have been all too prominent on his face. Closing the paperwork in his grasp, the doctor looked at Dean intensely. “Your wife is only about four weeks along,” he spoke slowly, maintaining heavy eye contact, “most likely she didn’t even know she was pregnant yet.” </p><p>“But - but, she’s on birth control.” </p><p>If he didn’t know any better, he was certain the doctor was giving him a smug little smirk. “I know birth control makes people feel secure, but things happen.” </p><p>Dean was certain he looked like a fish out of the water with how the news hit him like a ton of bricks. His knees suddenly felt like jello as he stumbled his way back into the chair he had been residing in. “She’s pregnant.” </p><p>“Yes, but if that isn’t something you two are prepared for when she wakes, we can discuss options and I can get her set up with the proper care if she doesn’t have a place already.” </p><p>While his heart was racing and soaring above the clouds at the unexpected news, he knew that the next steps were entirely on the woman he loved. Giving the doctor a nod, he promised to let him know the moment she was awake and talking again. </p><p>So, he waited. </p><p>---- </p><p>This time, as you felt your body come back to the realm of the living, you felt even shittier than when you first woke up. You had been having another dream, this one had Dean holding you and crying, but it was hard to make out whether or not he was crying because he was happy or heavy-hearted. He kept mumbling something under his breath and no matter how hard you tried, you weren’t able to make out his words.</p><p>“Hey beautiful,” his voice rang out against the silence. </p><p>“Dean?” You attempted to sit up, but your body objected, so you settled for turning your face over to meet him. “You’re still here?” </p><p>“I can’t think of any other place I’d rather be.” </p><p>Despite the amount of pain you were in, you couldn’t ignore the way that his words warmed your belly. A bout of butterflies took over as you gingerly reached over and grasped his hand giving him a soft squeeze. “You’re the only person I’d want to wake up to,” you admitted. “Dean, I’m… I’m really sorry.” </p><p>“I already told you,” he met your words with a soft smile, “you have nothing to apologize for. You acted how anyone would act in that situation.” </p><p>“Yeah, but, I just should have listened to you.” </p><p>“And I should have never let you leave.” </p><p>“Honestly,” you sighed feeling a tightness in your ribs at the inhale. “I don’t think you would have been able to stop me.” </p><p>“I don’t care,” his hand moved to allow him to grip yours tightly. “Y/N, I love you. I love you so much that giving up my career was worth the risk of losing it all because it meant I wouldn’t have to lose you.” </p><p>“You won’t lose me,” you assured him with a smirk.</p><p>“I almost did, again,” he spoke quickly. “I almost lost you like I lost Robin.” </p><p>“Dean…” </p><p>“Ah, Mrs. Winchester, you’re awake,” an older gentleman strutted into the room. By the long white coat, you assumed he was your doctor for the duration of your stay. “How are you feeling this morning?” </p><p><em>Mrs. Winchester?</em> You thought to yourself while giving Dean a sideways glance before turning your attention back to the doctor.</p><p>“A little sore,” you admitted. “My brain still feels kind of foggy.” </p><p>He smiled down at you while he brought his latex covered hand towards your face. Holding up his index finger, he began to move it slowly right and left in front of you.  “Can you follow my finger?” </p><p>Nodding, you did as he asked before he gave a satisfied acknowledgment and stepped back from your bedside. “Alright, well everything looks good,” he stated matter of factly before he surveyed where Dean was still gripping your hand. “I spoke with your husband earlier and told him that we would like to keep you for another twelve hours or so, just to make sure everything is looking okay with the baby.” </p><p>The room tilted sideways. “Excuse me?” </p><p>You noted the tiniest of crinkles that formed on the corners of the older gentleman’s eyes. “You’re pregnant, Mrs. Winchester. Congratulations!” </p><p>Blinking, once, twice, a third time for good measure you gaped at the two men looking back at you. “Is this the drugs talking? There’s no way that I’m pregnant. I’ve been on birth control for years.” </p><p>Dean gave your hand a slight squeeze, anchoring you in the moment. “Well, uh,” the doctor glanced between the two of you, “these things are a lot more common than you think.” </p><p>“How far along?” </p><p>“About four weeks,” Dean answered, eyes staying on the doctor who gave him a silent nod. </p><p>You eyed Dean carefully, the way his shoulders were squared and his chest pushed out with his chin jutted forward. He was… proud? “Dean,” you waited until he looked at you, the intenseness of his features relaxing as you made eye contact. “We’re having a baby?” </p><p>Despite the circumstances, his face broke out into a large grin. “We are.” </p><p>“Oh my god,” you replied as a fit of butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach. “A baby?” </p><p>The doctor cleared his throat causing the two to redirect your attention. “I’ll be available if the two of you have any questions, someone will be in within the hour to do an ultrasound.” </p><p>With that statement, he slipped through the door quickly, disappearing just as he came. Your mind was racing, your heart felt like it wanted to explode and you kind of felt like you might have to throw up. “Okay, hold on,” you said with a shake of your head. “Mrs. Winchester?” </p><p>A tint of pink washed over Dean’s cheeks as he glanced down to where he was still holding your hand. “I, uh, may have lied and told them that we were married.” </p><p>“Dean!” </p><p>“What?” He asked with a sly smirk before getting serious once more. “It’s not a total lie if I really want it to be true.” </p><p>That nauseous feeling was back. “You want to marry me?” </p><p>“More than anything in the world.” </p><p>“Not just because I’m pregnant?” </p><p>He gave a soft laugh, letting go of your hand before wedging both of them between you and the mattress forcing you to slide over. Carefully, the large Winchester balanced himself just enough that he was able to squeeze in between you and the guard rail before wrapping his arm across your abdomen. “That’s just the icing on the cake.” </p><p>“Are you sure?” You whispered as his scruffy jaw nuzzled into your neck. </p><p>“Y/N,” he spoke softly, “when we bust out of here, I’ll ask you the right way, at the right time, but I have never been more sure about a future with you. Being honest, I think all the heartbreak and uncertainty in our lives was needed to bring us to each other.” </p><p>You’d blame the hormones raging through your bloodstream later but at the moment you found tears streaming down your face at a force you didn’t even know if you could stop. “Fuck Dean,” you choke out between sobs. “I don’t deserve you.” </p><p>“Nonsense,” he whispered. “You’ve awoken a part of me I thought had died long ago.” </p><p>More tears rolled down your face as you watched the man rest his hand on your stomach, his thumb absently tracing circles just below your belly button. You thought about how it was his silent way of saying ‘hello’ to the little bean who was safely tucked away. </p><p>“What are we going to do about work?” You wondered aloud. </p><p>Dean’s lips pressed into your shoulder softly. “Sam’s going to hire me until I can get the shop up and running.” </p><p>“Shop?” </p><p>“Mhm,” he grinned against your neck. “Winchester’s Auto Shop.” </p><p>You thought about the night that he stayed up way too late showing you all of these antique cars on the internet. He told you that his father always took him to shows when they had some free time and mentioned that an old family friend named Bobby actually was still in possession of John Winchester’s Impala. He muttered something about seeing if he’d be able to drive that beauty again as you had dozed off on the couch.</p><p>As if he could read your thoughts, you felt Dean shift next to you before he spoke again. “Bobby’s bringing the Impala up this weekend while you catch up on school work.” </p><p>“Oh, right.”</p><p>“You’re almost done baby girl,” he assured you, kissing your temple. “Then it’ll just be us against the world.” </p><p>“The three of us,” you mused with a large grin.</p><p>Everything felt all kinds of upside down and backward, but for once in your life, you felt complete.</p><p>“The three of us,” he agreed, tilting your head so that his lips could catch yours. “The Winchesters will take the world by storm.”</p><p>----</p><p>And they did.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>THE END.</strong>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you guys so much for reading this! It was a joy to write and I hope it lived up to your expectations and more. I couldn't have done it without all of your lovely comments and kudos.</p>
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